


Fall Into Light

by Lupa_Eira



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, OT Retelling, Soulmate AU, in this house we love and appreciate Lando Calrissian, landoluke, lukelando, mostly from Lando's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 44,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupa_Eira/pseuds/Lupa_Eira
Summary: He was proud of what he had accomplished, keeping the gas mine independent from the Empire, a whole city free. And then it wasn't, and Luke Skywalker fell right into his arms.This is a soulmate Landwalker AU, written because this poor ship doesn't get enough love. Lando’s family is mildly Force-sensitive and tends to spontaneously form bonds with the people they’re meant to spend the rest of their life with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I first started working on this a year ago, and now it's here, my magnum opus. I couldn't be more thrilled to finally be posting this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

_Fading daylight filled the Calrissian family home, gentle in its withdrawal, as though the sunlight was falling asleep. The Calrissian family was gathered in quiet pursuit of personal interests. The Calrissian matriarch looked over a work proposal, while the father read a book. The youngest of their children, the only that was present tonight, occupied himself by playing with his toys, until a question came to him. After it rolled around in his mind for a while, he decided to turn to his mother and voice it. He was nine years old, and his name was Lando._

_“Ma, what’s the Force?” The parents glanced at each other, and the father put his book aside, but gave a tiny nod to the mother to lead the conversation. She leaned down from her chair over her knees, clasping her hands in front of her shins._

_“The Force is in everything,” she said. “It’s hard to understand. It’s in everything you can see, touch, and hear, but not many people can actually feel the Force itself.”_

_“Who can?”_

_“The Jedi can, and not very many others,” she said. Some level of disappointment must have shown in his face, because she left her chair to come kneel in front of him.“But listen, Lando,” she said, placing a comforting hand in his shoulder. “Our family may not have the Force in large enough amounts for the likes of the Jedi, but we have our own unique heritage. Are you listening?” Lando nodded, serious. “Good. Our family is very special, and very lucky, Lando. Like I said, we’re not quite Force-sensitive enough for the Jedi, but we have enough for our own traditions. You know how the Jedi caution against attachment?” Lando nodded. He always thought it was a bit silly. “Well, we don’t have to worry about that,” his mother grinned. “Which is why, when the Force wills it, and we meet the person or people we’re meant to spend the rest of our life with, the Force binds us together.”_

_“What does it feel like?” Lando asked. His mother's face lit up, glad of a chance to talk about the love she shared with her husband. They exchanged a glance full of meaning before she turned back to her son._

_“It's like a chord resolving properly,” she mused. Seeing her son’s confused face, she laughed and tried a different metaphor. Despite her best efforts, her son had never been very musically inclined. “Or like you never had a home, or a purpose, until you realized this person gives you both.”_

_“But how do you_ know _?” Lando protested. His mother smiled a distant smile._

_“Ah, my son, you were always more practical than romantic,” she teased. “You get that from your father, you know.” Lando beamed under the praise and grinned at his father, who chuckled fondly. “You feel it under your skin, like an electric charge, or a shot of caff. You might be attracted to other people, of course, and there will be sparks with those people, but this feels different. It's like you're being strung out and filled up, all at once.” Her son considered her words for a moment, and she smiled ruefully. “I'm sorry that I'm not very good at explaining it. You'll know, my son.”_

_“Will I ever meet them, Ma?” Lando asked. His mother leaned back, giving the question due consideration._

_“Hard to say,” she said. “We live in a very big galaxy. Not everyone is lucky. But we Calrissians tend to make our own luck.”_

_~_

His mother had been right about two things--that it was a very big galaxy, and that everyone, Calrissians and otherwise, had to make their own luck to get by.

Lando had never wasted time, even when he was young, trying to look for his person. Or people, his aunt had a husband and a wife, both bonded. He liked people, and didn't want to mess up any friendships by going for a romantic interest when he knew that it was pointless, but he didn't hold himself back, either. He and Han, for example, had had an on-again-off-again type arrangement for years whenever they were in each other's orbit. An understanding. Even though Han stole the _Falcon_ out from under him--well, he'd won it fair and square, after Lando had stolen it in the first place--even after that, they'd kept a cordial acquaintance, although the workings of the galaxy had kept them pretty far apart. He'd met other people, men and women and otherwise, who he'd felt a spark for, like his mother had said. But he knew, somehow, that they were not that person. Nothing filled him up. Sparks, but no fire. And after his young days, when he was slightly more romantic than pragmatic, he settled down with a city in the clouds.

Lando hadn't felt young in a long time, but he was happy. As a politician, he often touted the idea that Cloud City was a paradise, a wink and a handshake were ever at the ready, silvery words pouring out of his mouth like sticky saccharine sweets. Years of con artistry made his tongue smooth and slick like silk, and he knew how to twist words on their way. Words he wove like rivers, leading people to the source--or rather, getting _them_ to lead him to _theirs_. And yet, he meant it, every word, about Cloud City.

See, Cloud City was _ugly_ , underneath its pristine walkways and visceral sunsets. Everyone who lived there knew that. Tourists and executives stopping through said the views from the observation decks got into your soul, painted them awash with viscous light, but the citizens knew that Cloud City was, at the end of the day, a mine. This was no jewel mine, either; jewels were prizes one could see and touch and impress with, proof of work and proof of life. No, they mined gas, and gas was _insidious_ . It pressed down into itself until it was nothing but dark, and neither sight nor smell could quantify it. But by the Force, if there was hissing to be heard, pipes seething like rattlesnakes, the result was the same as a canary’s dying song. The miners were not exposed down there, in the roar of the atmosphere, to feel out their work with their hands. They were nothing so concrete, but this work was still _primal_. And, yes, ugly, in the way of all necessary systems everywhere.

Lando _loved_ Cloud City. Here, he could walk the sky.

Lando supposed, in a rare moment of introspection, that in some ways, he was much the same as his city--polished to perfection on the surface, but full of flaws just waiting for the right coincidence to shake them free. His people recognized this, and loved him for it, and thought him good. That was so surprising, and so far from unwelcome, that it made him responsible. If there was one thing Lando had always craved, deep in his heart, it was to care for another person. Now a whole city beckoned and swayed under his feet, and his people grinned and waved at him as he passed by, and there were minor crises every day, and if it wasn't quite the same as having a romantic relationship, well, it was enough. It _was_.

And sometimes, when Lando fell to sleep exhausted, when a day ended with too many people clamoring for his attention, with suppliers shouting at him and his own people frustrated and venting, he dreamed of flying. His own weight and body stretched out so far and so vast that he almost felt light for a moment, before his overstretched and overwhelmed skin collapsed back like a taut wire cut, and he fell into the wind, peaceful, himself. Lando never knew how to feel about those dreams, except with the certain knowledge they were a sign he was overworked.

And sometimes, the dreams skipped the first part entirely. He just fell, and at the end of his fall there was nothing but light. Lately, the dreams had _reversed_ , and he was nothing but the light, as wind fell into him.

Lando tried not to think about these dreams. Thankfully, his life was usually too full to contemplate them.

Lando liked feeling small, he had discovered. He liked the feeling of communal responsibility. Working by committee sometimes had its problems, it was true, but that was why his job existed, to delegate and soothe ruffled feathers, to streamline processes. He liked that Cloud City treated his position as essential, but that the end of the day was no more or less important than anyone else’s. His quarters were no more luxurious than anyone else’s; he was paid the same as the other department heads.

Yes, Lando liked his place in the galaxy, small as it was, based in community as it was. And if he didn’t quite have everything he could ever wish for--public restrooms that were self-cleaning, a lack of petty profiteers coming to tour, vacation, and make business to attend to, the threat of the Empire out from overhead, a true life partner--well, life was still wonderful. It wasn’t as though his life was incomplete in some way, as though he couldn’t function, as if he didn’t have responsibilities. No, Lando was happy. Determination for it wasn’t even necessary.

The trouble began with an unannounced visitor. Cloud City did not admit unannounced visitors, but the Empire hardly gave him a choice in the matter. Lando had fallen out of the habit of checking the corners when he entered a room, but he could still move. He blindly threw two people off of his back before feeling the cold press of a blaster barrel against his temple. Lando was no fool, and held perfectly still. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his attacker step closer, noting old, discolored Mandalorian armor. The faceplate was similar enough to the Clone Wars style and the current stormtrooper style to send chills down his spine.

“Lord Vader would like to speak to you,” the man said shortly, not bothering to address the fact that Lando had just knocked several men unconscious. “Please do not attempt to contact any security or otherwise resist, as it will only result in loss of personnel for you.” With that, he prodded Lando into the next room. Lando’s spine, stiff with outrage, became still more rigid out of pure fear. Darth Vader, the Emperor’s hellhound, a monster in the guise of a man, stood--not a legend, not a rumor, not a nightmare, but a very real threat. A threat to Lando. A threat to Cloud City. One order from Vader, and Bespin could be up in smoke, or otherwise assimilated under the Empire. Perhaps his people would be slaughtered and the facilities left intact, perhaps he himself would be killed as an example, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps--

Vader’s infamous breathing filled the space, and Lando forced himself to ground his awareness in it. A single shudder allowed his spine to move, and he stepped forward into the room. Vader wasted no time getting to the point.

“Baron Calrissian,” he greeted, voice rattling into Lando’s bones. “The _Millennium Falcon_ is on its way.” _Han_. “You are to detain its occupants and bring them to me.”

“Why?” Lando asked, voice strong. He held his ground and did not flinch at the prodding of the barrel.

“Unnecessary, Fett,” Vader said, and the barrel was removed. “Baron Calrissian is a reasonable man. I expect we can come to an agreement.”

“An agreement requires an incentive,” Lando snapped before he could stop himself. A low roaring filled his ears and his hands flew to his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe_ \--he looked up for a split second, in the primal fear of death, and saw his executioner, using nothing but a closed fist, not even close to touching him. The emotionless mask, blank and heartless, was no substitute for living eyes. Suddenly, the hand opened, cruel in giving life as it was in death, and Lando was helpless to do anything but fall to his knees, gasping for air.

“Is that enough incentive for you, Calrissian?” Lando, unable to do anything more, nodded. “You will hold the occupants of the _Falcon_ here in the city. They are the bait for Skywalker.”

“They’ll be under my protection?” Lando managed to wheeze out. Whoever the hell this Skywalker was, Vader wanted them badly.

“The Empire is willing to ignore your operation,” Vader said. “Frankly, the Emperor has no need of a single mining planet. What we need is Skywalker.” Lando forced himself to stand, swallowing back the coughs still wracking his throat.

“Cloud City stays independent, the people on the _Falcon_ stay here under my protection,” he summarized. “All you want me to do is hold them here until this Skywalker gets here.”

“That is correct, Baron. I expect your full cooperation.” What that, Vader swept out of the room. Lando leaned against the wall, breaking out in a cold sweat. A ringing came out of from his pocket and he jumped, swearing. It was Lobot calling him. Almost mechanically, he answered.

“Sir, a ship called the _Millenium Falcon_ is inbound, asking for you,” Lobot said, not bothering with a greeting. Lando shuddered, closing his eyes. There was no justice or mercy to be found in this, and there was no choice but to go forward.

“I know them. Clear Platform 327, let them land. Meet me there with a security escort. It likely won’t be necessary.”

“Understood, sir.” His comm crackled and then went silent. Everything was happening so fast and Lando still felt like he couldn’t breathe, but he squared his shoulders and went to the landing pad anyway. When he arrived, he was struck by how normal everyone seemed, despite that his skin was still crawling. Lobot immediately caught his eye and pulled him in for a conversation. “Sir, what exactly is going on? We don’t permit unscheduled landings and we’ve just had two in one day.”

“It’s the Empire,” Lando said shortly. Never let it be said that he was willing to mince words in dire circumstances. “We have no choice but to cooperate.”

“Sir--” Lobot tried to protest, as an aide opened the doors to the landing platform.

“We are going to detain the occupants of this ship here, but give them the best guest quarters. They are not to be ill-treated; they are under my protection. Understood?”

“Understood,” Lobot said. There was an edge of unhappiness to his voice. That was how Lando knew just how badly this sat with his technical secretary; the man liked to pretend that just because he had a machine attached to his head that he _was_ a machine, and tried not to show any emotion if he could help it. There was no more time to stall, so Lando turned and strode out to the platform. His aides and guards scrambled to follow him.

Out in the air of Bespin, it finally felt like he could really breathe, but there was no time to process, or even take a moment. He spotted Han first and kept his eyes on him. _I have to make him believe that nothing’s wrong. His life depends on it._

“Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler!” he called, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. _Pretend it’s Vader._ “You’ve got a lot of guts coming here, after what you pulled.” Han tried pulling the innocent face Lando had seen him use a hundred times. The invisible knife in his gut twisted harder. Lando stepped forward. He feinted, and then quickly drew Han into a hug--he really needed one, but like everything else, it had to be too fast. He started laughing, trying not to feel like he was going to throw up. Han started laughing too, genuine, free, returning his embrace and punching him on the arm for good measure. “How are you doing, you old pirate? So good to see you! I never thought I’d catch up with you again. Where you been?” Han snorted, waved his hand, rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you doing here?” He really was curious as to the answer. To say Bespin was somewhat off the beaten path was putting it mildly. What could have driven Han out all this way?

“Ahhh...repairs. I thought you could help me out,” Han said, gesturing back to the _Falcon_.

“What have you done to my ship?” Lando asked immediately, almost accusatory. _Must be Imperial troubles. Maybe Vader sabotaged him, or drove him here in some way._ Han wasn’t the most subtle, but Lando had known him long enough to see right through him. He had no choice but to play along, however--he was, currently, having Imperial troubles of his own.

“ _Your_ ship?” Han protested. “Hey, you lost her to me fair and square.”

“And how you doing, Chewbacca?” Lando called to Han’s ever-present companion. “Still hanging around this loser?”

 _“Better than hanging around you,”_ Chewie said without missing a beat. Lando smiled tightly and his eyes drifted to...a woman, standing on Chewie’s left, looking reserved and unhappy, and definitely _not_ Han’s usual type. What in the galaxy had Han gotten himself mixed up with?

“Hello, what have we here?” The woman offered nothing, not a smile, not a name. Lando took it in stride. “Welcome; I’m Lando Calrissian. I’m the administrator of this facility. And who might you be?”

“Leia,” she conceded, with a courtier’s faux smile. He was impressed; she really _was_ out of Han’s league. Maybe she had offered him money for discreet transport of some kind, but Lando got the feeling something more emotional was involved. He decided to test it.

“Welcome, Leia,” he smiled, bowing and kissing her hand.

“All right, all right,” Han grumbled, taking Leia’s hand from Lando’s and tucking it into the crook of his arm. “You old smoothie,” he shot back at Lando. Lando stared after them as a protocol droid tried to introduce himself. _Force, I hope nothing happens to them. I hope I can protect them._

But, again, there was no time. He jogged a little to catch up and started chatting with Han.

“What’s wrong with the Falcon?”

“Hyperdrive.”

“I’ll get my people to work on it,” Lando promised. A ready-made excuse to detain them. There was something strangely ironic about the convenience of it.

“Good.”

_It’s the least I can do._

“You know, that ship saved my life quite a few times. She's the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy,” he said to Leia. Again, she smiled, and it was very nearly genuine, but she gave no reply.

“How’s the gas mine? Is it paying off for you?” Han asked. Lando chuckled a little. It was funny that he had been here for years and years and Han still thought he was only in this for profit.

“Oh, not as well as I’d like,” he said, playing along, letting himself pretend, just for now, that everything was all right. “We’re a small outpost and not very self-sufficient. And I’ve had supply problems of every kind, I’ve had labor difficulties--what’s so funny?” Han was grinning at him.

“You. Listen to you--you sound like a businessman, a responsible leader. Who’d have thought that, huh?” A lump formed in Lando’s throat. If only this really was a chance meeting between old friends.

“You know, seeing you sure brings back a few things,” he said suddenly, sincerely. He looked Han straight in the eye. This was the only apology he could make; the only moment he could allow himself to be selfish and drink in Han’s friendship. This was the only moment when he wouldn’t allow himself to pretend.

“Yeah,” Han agreed, fondly smiling. Lando shook his head to get himself moving again.

“Yeah, I’m responsible,” he heard himself say, and he and Han continued talking until he dropped them off at their lavish guest quarters. Han was relaxed, invited him in, but Lando protested responsibilities, waving him off. Leia and Chewie still peered at him suspiciously.

He couldn’t exactly blame them.

When he arrived at his own quarters, dark and quiet, Lando sat down on his bed without turning on the lights. He could barely see his own hands by the dim moonlight making its way through his curtains. He sighed, head tipping forward until it rested in his hands. Tears would be expected at a moment like this, but none would come. Numbness and _weight_ settled in his chest, along with spiraling helplessness.

And then there was this Skywalker. There was a tickle in the back of his mind--did he know them from somewhere? Ever since Vader had mentioned it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew them. But, though he brooded on it, he couldn't recall anyone he knew with the name, and then he reminded himself that it didn't matter, because his city came first. The Empire wanted him, this Skywalker. Hell, the Empire wanted a lot of people, what did he care? If some poor person’s life was what it took to save the lives and livelihood of all his people, and no one else's lives were lost? It was a damn terrible decision, but it was an easy one, or as easy as these decisions came. Lando knew when he'd been outplayed. He was going to do his damn best to make sure there were as few casualties as possible.

But what would happen, come sunrise?

Somehow, Lando managed a few hours of miraculous sleep. The sunlight coming through the window and the view outside were as soft and beautiful as ever, and the floor still hummed and swayed under his feet. Cloud City did not burn, and yet a phantom smell of ash tickled his nostrils, a harbinger, a warning. Tribanna gas burned so easily. He dressed mechanically, and waited for disaster to make its appearance. It came in the late afternoon, after he had spent the whole day feeling disoriented and off-center, going about his normal duties as best he could.

“Sir, Lord Vader is requesting your presence in banquet room one,” Lobot said over his comm. That edge of disapproval was still in his voice. The feeling of off-centered teetering in Lando’s stomach increased significantly.

“On my way,” he said, and Lobot cut the connection.

Lando wanted to walk in a haze, but he couldn’t afford to lose focus. When his mind threatened to wander, he concentrated on the feeling of his boots hitting the floor, heel to toe, and the straight line of his shoulders, head held high. If anyone in Cloud City knew what was going on, they would not see him panicking.

The feeling of nauseous imbalance swelled as he approached the banquet hall. He let it propel him through the door.

“Baron,” Vader greeted in that bone-rattling voice. “You will bring Solo and the rest of his party to me immediately.”

“I thought I was only meant to detain them while you waited for Skywalker,” Lando protested.

“I have no intention of killing them,” Vader replied coldly. “Go, and bring them to me.” Lando hesitated for the barest second before sweeping out the door again, this time allowing himself a moment to lean with a hand against the wall before continuing helplessly onward. He knocked (he was rather old-fashioned that way) and mindlessly opened the door to the guest suite. To his puzzlement, he found Chewbacca, Han, and Leia standing in the main room, looking very tense. His heart skipped a beat--had they somehow found something out?

“I’m sorry; am I interrupting something?”

“Not really,” Leia said, slight emphasis on the “really”, a politician’s venom. Lando smiled reflexively.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said, keeping his eyes on Leia. Some old, remembered part of him, that lived with the laughter and smooth talking of two young smugglers, meant the words for Han as well. “You truly belong here with us among the clouds.”

“Thank you,” Leia said, though she clearly didn’t mean the words at all.

“Will you join me for a little refreshment?” he asked, sickened to his stomach that flirting on autopilot was the only way his brain seemed to be able to cope with doing this. He hated the way his voice was coming out, in a drawl he himself recognized as disingenuous but almost no one else could. He only registered that his hand was held out to Leia when Chewie barked out an affirmation. “Everyone’s invited, of course,” he said, and Han quickly took Leia’s arm, as he had on the platform. A box of what was clearly the disembodied droid that had been with them caught Lando’s eye. “Having trouble with your droid?” he asked, eyebrows drawn. Keenly, he observed that something had torn the droid apart, possibly even shot it if the scorch marks were anything to go by.

The only people who would be shooting on Cloud City were Imperials.

“No. No problem, why?” Han said. It was such bad, flat-out lying, even from him, that Lando smelled trouble. The phantom smell of ash that had dogged him when he woke up returned in earnest. His heart started hammering. Were the Imperials sabotaging any attempts to leave? Why? Was it merely for insurance? Belatedly, he realized Chewbacca was waiting for him to exit first, so Lando tore his eyes away from the droid and followed. For some reason, this time, Leia was sure to place herself between Han and Lando--whether out of jealousy or suspicion was to be determined, but she kept him occupied with questions rather than let him talk to Han. Probably suspicion, then--the questions were intelligent and pointed inquiries about his operation and his role in it.

“So you see, since we're a small operation, we don't fall into the, uh, jurisdiction of the Empire,” he explained. _Or at least, we hadn’t, until now_.

“So you’re part of the mining guild, then?” she asked. It was a keen question, but Lando had bigger problems to field off than her. They were nearly to the banquet hall.

“No, not actually. Our operation is small enough not to be noticed, which is advantageous for everybody, since our customers are anxious to avoid attracting attention to themselves.” _Or at least, it had been_.

“Aren't you afraid the Empire's going to find out about this little operation and shut you down?” Han questioned. Lando very nearly laughed out loud. Sweat was beading on his palms, as it hadn’t since he was a teenager just getting used to smuggling circles.

“That's always been a danger looming like a shadow over everything we've built here.  But things have developed that will insure security.” At least, if Vader didn’t alter their “deal”, which, given his suspicions at the droid, he had a horrible feeling was likely. “I've just made a deal that will keep the Empire out of here forever.” _Never let it be said I don’t have a flair for the dramatic_ , Lando thought, as the doors opened and Vader was revealed. He kept his eyes squarely on Han’s face as his friend took out a _blaster_ , because trying to shoot a _Sith Lord_ was always a smart thing to do, and Lando’s chest _ached_ for his friends. Stormtroopers surrounded them instantly and Han’s face finally flicked back to his, completely, utterly betrayed.

“I had no choice. They arrived right before you did.” His voice was flat for the first time all day, and Lando hoped beyond hope that Han would hear the honesty in that. “I'm sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Han said, and gods, Lando’s heart _hurt_.  
“ _How could you_?” Chewie asked, and Lando didn’t have an answer other than the one he already gave. He went inside the banquet hall with them. Maybe it was the very last thing he could do to honor them.

Gods help them, someone had actually put refreshments out. Unsurprisingly, no one ate.

“Han Solo, Princess Leia,” Vader greeted. Chewbacca bristled at Vader’s deliberate lack of greeting to himself--the Empire was notorious for its speciesism toward non-humanoids. As for Lando, he glanced at Leia sharply upon hearing the word “princess”, and it suddenly slid into place. Alderaan’s last princess was in this room, her head held high. _Han, how did you get mixed up with the last of Alderaanian royalty_? But there was no time to think, because suddenly troopers were holding Chewbacca at bay and Fett hauled Han off and Leia was dragged, kicking and screaming, to another room, and suddenly Lando was alone. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing filled the space and the harshness of it, just for a moment, sounded like Vader, which was enough for him to sink down with his head between his knees.

There was so much horror in him that it pulsed in his _bones_.

“Sir, they’ve taken Solo to the detention center. I think they’ve set up some sort of torture chamber in there,” Lobot’s voice came into his ear, sounding more panicked than Lando had ever heard him. Alarm shot through him, forcing him to his feet in a burst of adrenaline.

“On my way,” he said, and _ran_ , because Force, he had to _fix_ this.

“I’ll meet you there,” Lobot replied. When he arrived, Lobot was standing with his hands clenched and face impassive, and Han’s screams were coming through the door. Lando moved to go inside, but Fett stopped him. Instead of protesting, Lando settled down to wait, glaring. Vader swept out just a few seconds later.

“Lord Vader--” Lando said angrily, but Vader just went past him and addressed Fett.

“You may take Captain Solo to Jabba the Hutt after I have Skywalker.” Lando’s stomach plummeted.

“He's no good to me dead,” Fett retorted.

“He will not be permanently damaged.” They were talking about a man’s life, his _friend’s_ life, in such careless terms and Lando wanted to _scream_. Sheer strength of will and hard-won mental discipline held his temper in check, but it was by a bare thread.

“Lord Vader, what about Leia and the Wookiee?” he asked. He didn’t even know where they were. Were they being tortured, just as Han was? The concept of Alderaan’s last princess, a known general in the Rebellion, being held by the Empire was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. No one, whether they generally supported the Empire or not, condoned the death of Alderaan.

“They must never again leave this city,” Vader replied. Lando’s jaw nearly dropped in outrage; he’d only meant to ask after their _location_ and suddenly they were under house arrest?

“That was never a condition of our agreement, nor was giving Han to this bounty hunter!” he shouted angrily, uncaring in that moment for his personal safety.

“Perhaps you think you're being treated unfairly.” Vader’s voice was as impassive as his mask, making the inquiry seem as cool as an autumn breeze. But it did what it had done before--it grounded Lando in reality. He had more than Han and Leia and Chewie to worry about, and if he wanted to make this right, he couldn’t do it like this, not if he wanted to his citizens to stay unharmed.

“...no,” he finally gritted out, backing down.

“Good.  It would be unfortunate if I had to leave a garrison here.” Vader left and Lando went in the opposite direction, trembling.

“This deal is getting worse all the time,” he hissed, pulling Lobot into an unused office without bothering to turn on a light. “We have to do something.”

“But what, sir?” Lobot asked, frustrated. “They’re taking over the city. They’re overseeing all major departments and have troopers placed in every corridor.” Lando thought frantically for a moment, awakening some long-forgotten part of himself that still lived in the mindset of smuggler’s escape routes and trying not to draw attention to himself.

“When this Skywalker arrives and the bounty hunter leaves with Han, that’s our opportunity,” he realized, gripping Lobot’s arm in his urgency. Lobot kept his eyes on Lando’s face. “Vader will be occupied with his trap, but we’ll have Leia and Chewbacca, and our crews have repaired the _Falcon_. You make sure a path is clear and I’ll sound the alarm for general evacuation. If there’s a chance to save Han, we’ll take it from there.” After a moment of contemplation, Lobot nodded decisively.

“It’s doable,” he said, then listened on his head implants to something. “They’re moving all of them to one location in half an hour,” he relayed. “You go to them then. I’ll alert a security crew.”

“I’ll take care of alerting the department heads. I don’t need to tell you to be discreet.”

“I would be offended if you reminded me, sir.” Smiling grimly, Lando was off.

Cloud City had always been aware that its situation was precarious. They belonged neither to the mining guild, which was nominally independent, and nor to the Empire, which meant that they had a steady stream of customers looking for discreet service but also meant that they were in danger of takeover or worse every day. One of the first things Lando had done upon acquiring leadership of Cloud City was to ensure that there was an effective evacuation system in place. Simply put, they would use the passages that Imperials never would--the mining passages. It had been expensive, patchwork at best, but after several years where the Empire loomed in the distance and they held their breath, Cloud City had a system of discreet exit points located in the very foundations of the structure. The paths ran parallel to major mining shafts, lit only by dim emergency-activated lamps, and led to a series of hangars containing small, fast ships. Not large enough for people to cart all their belongings, but enough for the important things. Now all Lando had to do was alert the departments, first and foremost Engineering, and set the plan in motion. He had foreseen this circumstance--unable to sound the alarm system that would alert the citizens of the threat. If the alarm was sounded, Lando knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that the stormtroopers would descend and massacre them all. So, how to alert the individual department that evacuation was imminent?

He managed to run into a woman named Kaegarr--she was second in command in the Engineering department, and one of the few who would be able to actually set the plan in motion. Moreover, she was one of very few people he could trust not to panic. She was a stone-cold professional who had worked as a mechanic and engineer for remote ambulatory service ships in the Outer Rim for twenty years. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a side corridor. Her calm, if puzzled face reassured him.

“Hostile takeover,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and a smile on his face, letting a hand drift to her waist. She played along, letting a short giggle escape her mouth, placing a hand on his forearm. If anyone saw them, they’d believe it was nothing but a bit of flirtation. “Stormtroopers. We need to use the evac system.”

“No problem,” she purred, swiping her lips for effect. “I’ll tell Emony.”

“Great,” Lando said. “See you later?”

“Hell yes,” she said, gripping his arm in reassurance. Lando placed a kiss to her hand. She laughed and gave him a little wave as he left. Just a bit of flirtation. Not a coded signal to begin evacuations at all. Over the course of twenty minutes, he managed to pinpoint the heads of, or second-in-commands to, every single one of Cloud City’s major departments. Every single one of them faced the threat with admirable stoicism.

As he continued amongst his populace, he could feel the slight differences the stormtroopers never could--the slight changes in the rhythm under his feet that meant quiet usage of emergency power. A small portion of Cloud City’s electricity was being diverted to the evacuation system, so small it didn’t even dim the lights, but Lando could feel it. And with that feeling came _hope._

“Sir, they’re moving,” Lobot said suddenly into his comm. “Holding cell 114. I’ve made sure your guards are placed at the entrance.”

“Acknowledged.” Lando began making his way to the detention cell where Chewbacca was being kept. Two of his guards met him in the corridor--Lobot must have clued them in. He opened the door and shut it as quickly as possible, and then cursed internally. The cameras were still in place, and so were the audio speakers. There was no doubt in his mind that the stormtroopers, and possibly Fett, were monitoring the security feeds. He wouldn’t be able to clue them into what the actual plan was, and would have to settle for half-truths.

“Lando,” he heard Leia say to Han, who was lying down. Lando moved toward him on instinct, wanting to see how badly he was hurt, but was stopped by Chewie’s snarl. The meaning was clear-- _stay back_.

“Get out of here, Lando--” Han started growling.

“Shut up and listen!” he interrupted. There was no time for the outraged posturing Han always favored. “Vader has agreed to turn Leia and Chewie over to me.”

“Over to _you_?”

“They’ll have to stay here, but at least they’ll be safe.”

“What about Han?” Leia accused.

“Vader’s giving him to the bounty hunter,” Lando spat the last two words, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“Vader wants us _all_ dead--” Leia started, contemptuous.

“He doesn’t want you at all! He's after someone called Skywalker!” Leia gasped in shock.

Lando peculiarly felt like the name echoed in his throat for a moment, like his heart sped up just a little.  

“Luke?” Han asked, in a quiet voice Lando hadn’t quite expected. Another person Han loved?

“Lord Vader set a trap for him.”

“And we’re the bait!” Leia exclaimed, horrified.

“Well, he’s on his way,” Lando confirmed. His attention was caught when Han stood up, though he was clearly in pain. He stared at Lando with more rage than Lando had ever seen from him, not even when the banquet door had opened hours earlier.

“Perfect. You fixed us all pretty good, didn't you?” Lando shook his head, why could Han never _understand--_ “My friend!” he spat, and threw a punch that sent Lando staggering. While he stumbled back, one of his guards went to subdue Han with the butt of a blaster rifle.

“Stop!” he said, disgusted that one of his own would resort to that kind of violence, and reset his cloak. “I’ve done all I can,” he said, infusing his voice with as much bitterness as he could, which, thankfully, was a lot, because he was feeling mightily bitter at the moment. This moment _had_ to sell to anyone watching over the cameras.

Even at the cost of his friendship with Han. If it meant saving him, he would burn it to the ground.

“I’m sorry I can’t do better, but I’ve got my own problems,” he added for effect.

“Yeah,” Han said, looking up, words dripping with sarcasm, “You’re a real hero.” Feeling an urge to cry, and knowing that he didn’t have the time, Lando left. He tried to hold his head high, and turned the hurt into anger. Anger was fuel for the short-term. Anger would get him through this. Before he could get anywhere, however, he was intercepted by Lobot. He found himself at the facility for carbon freezing at Lobot’s silent urging.

It was cold. Of course it was, it was their carbon freezing facility--but it felt ominous, somehow, when Lando walked in and felt that blast of artificially freezing air. He and Lobot stood on the edge of the hydraulic platform. Lando attempted to catch his secretary’s eye, but the man stared resolutely ahead, clearly encouraging his boss to do the same. Despite his questions, Lando acquiesced, and fought to listen to whatever was being said. Vader’s black silhouette, outlined in gleaming orange and blues, sent chills down his spine, separate from the icy air of the room.

“This facility is crude, but it should be adequate to freeze Skywalker for his journey to the Emperor.” Lando clenched his fists by his sides. No matter how some might blame Skywalker for putting Cloud City in danger, Lando wasn’t one of them, even as he regretfully acknowledged that the man would probably have to be caught to get the rest of the citizens out safely. No one deserved to die in pain, and that might be exactly what happened if Vader put him in the carbon freeze.

“Lord Vader, ship approaching. X-wing class,” a nameless, faceless Imperial assistant informed Vader.

“Good.  Monitor Skywalker and allow him to land.”

Lando couldn’t help himself. His conscience wouldn’t let him do nothing to save this man, even while he was trying to save everyone else in his city. Without letting himself think about it, he left Lobot’s side and went to Vader to protest.

“Lord Vader, we only use this facility for carbon freezing. If you put him in there, it might kill him.”

“I do not want the Emperor's prize damaged,” Vader agreed, and Lando very nearly felt relieved, until he continued. “We will test it...on Captain Solo.” Lando froze in place while the Sith Lord walked away and stormtroopers shoved past him, unable to summon up any more outrage. A cold feeling settled in his chest, separate from the air around him.   
“No good deed, Lobot,” he said, jaw clenched and throat tight.

“Sir?”

“Continue as planned. But we might have to rescue Han after the freezing.”

“Sir, he could die.”

“We don’t have enough time.” Lando turned around to stare at the man who was his right hand and his friend. Lobot’s own anger subsided in the face of the depth of Lando’s feeling, though he, like his boss, still looked thunderously unhappy. “We’ll just have to make a break for it.”

And in the back of his mind, somehow separate from it all, Lando almost felt Bespin’s air rushing beneath the wings of a ship. Skywalker was making his approach. _You just heard that Imp say so, of course he is_ , Lando scolded himself, and proceeded to watch the Ugnaughts prepare the facility with an eagle eye.

All too soon, Han and his friends were being herded into the chamber. Lando stared down at the preparations, making certain there were no mistakes. He might not be able to stop Han from being put into the carbonite, but he could damn well make sure he survived it. Han’s familiar steps approached behind him, but Lando did not turn his head.

“What's going on... buddy?” Han growled.

“You're being put into carbon freeze,” Lando said shortly, unwilling to mice words. He only let himself glance at Han out of the corner of his eye. If Vader thought that he was truly helping Han escape, the whole city populace would be endangered. He started to move off to side, and caught a glimpse of Leia and Han, not saying anything, just staring at each other. The intimacy might have been uncomfortable if it wasn’t so tragic.

“What if he doesn't survive? He's worth a lot to me,” Fett asked, though he sounded almost bored. Lando allowed himself to briefly close his eyes, and let his anger freeze his feet to the ground.

“The Empire will compensate you if he dies. Put him in!” Vader ordered. Immediately, Chewbacca roared, throwing the stormtroopers around, knocking them down the shaft below the hydraulic platform. Lando went to take action, but Lobot kept him in place with a hand on his arm. Han, meanwhile, took responsibility.

“Stop, Chewie, stop! Do you hear me? Stop!” Lando stared at his friend as he stared down the upset and angry Wookie. “Chewie! Chewie, this won't help me. Hey!” Han looked stressed, but not panicking. Not this time. Before he would have been the first one out, attempting some crazy stunt likely to get him killed just because he couldn’t stand still for a better one. What had he been doing and who had he met during these past few years, Lando wondered, that had steadied him so completely? The answer came at Han’s next words. “Save your strength. There'll be another time. The princess--you have to take care of her. You hear me?” Han’s voice was urgent while the stormtroopers cuffed his friend. After a moment, Chewie howled mournfully, bowing his head in acknowledgement as Leia stood closer to him.

Han and Leia locked eyes and it was hardly a moment before they had come together, kissing gently but desperately. It wasn’t enough, but the stormtroopers interjected themselves and pulled Han away, and Leia, for a second, followed him. Though their bodies were apart, their gazes remained locked together, like two stars caught by each other’s gravity.

Lando watched as Han was wrestled to the platform, making himself check that it was done correctly, that Han was in the right place, though every instinct that he had wanted to just start shooting and get everyone out of there. As Han was lowered into the carbonite, he forced himself to honor his old friend by watching, by witnessing, wishing he could apologize with his eyes, but Han’s gaze never left Leia’s. Despite himself, Lando found himself looking to the princess. Devastation was hardly strong enough of a word for the raw emotion on her face.

Chewbacca howled a mourning song as the freeze mechanism began to churn out gas. Leia, finally unable to bear it, looked away, burying her face in Chewbacca’s side. He only howled louder. Lando forced himself to tear his eyes away, to watch as the coffin-like structure of Han’s body encased in carbon was released from the clamps. The Ugnaughts, notoriously uncaring for humanoid lifeforms, tipped the case over before anyone could stop them. The crash it made as it hit the metal floor was like a peal of thunder. Leia flinched back and huddled closer to Chewie. Lando felt a similar emotion, but had no one to turn to and no time to do so. With a heavy heart, he stepped up to Han’s body and forced himself to check his vitals. If he was dying in there, there was no time to lose.

He wasn’t sure whether to grieve or to be relieved when he saw Han was perfectly stable.

“Well, Calrissian, did he survive?” Vader asked, when he took too long checking.

“Yes, he's alive.” He paused, allowing his eyes to flick toward Leia. “And in perfect hibernation.”  
“He's all yours, bounty hunter,” Vader said to Fett, then turned to his troops. “Reset the chamber for Skywalker.”

“Skywalker has just landed, my lord,” an officer informed him.

“Good. See to it that he finds his way here.” Lando attempted to go to Leia and take her away, counting on their ability to slip away unnoticed, but she jerked her arm away, and Lando spun back to Vader when his name was called. “Calrissian, take the princess and the Wookiee to my ship.”

“You said they'd be left in the city under my supervision!” Lando protested.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further.” Without realizing it, Lando’s hand went to his throat, rubbing the skin and cloth there. No, he would never want to cross Vader directly again. But he had a better plan in motion, he remembered, as he glanced back to Leia. Her eyes had gone back to Han, whose face was frozen in a gruesome expression of pain.

They were running out of time. Lando looked to Lobot, who nodded and quickly left before the stormtroopers swept the rest of them off. It seemed Vader didn’t quite trust Lando to get Leia and her friends all the way to his ship, but it didn’t matter. A few stormtroopers were no match for Lobot’s planning skills.

When they were almost to the middle of their route, Lando made his move--discreetly letting Lobot know his location via his wrist communicator. He could tell by the dimmer, more industrial lighting and the higher, less pervasive humming under his feet that the power systems had been fully adjusted for the evacuation. The emergency lights in the tunnels had to be on, the ships had to be powered on and ready to fly, and in that, Lando took vicious comfort. They would not get his citizens. The Imperial officer walking next to him trusted less in Lando’s knowledge of his halls and more in the stormtroopers with guns walking behind to prevent any escape attempts. So Lando led them toward an elevator that was technically en route--but, most importantly, was very close to the hangar where the _Falcon_ was being kept, and equally close to the platform where Fett was set to depart.

Almost as soon as they got to the elevator, a strange nudge to his sternum caused Lando to turn--a shadow, ducking through the hallways. The Imperial officer hauled Leia in front of him as a body shield, and Lando caught a glimpse of a blond, young face holding a blaster. Lando was shoved forward to key in the access code to the next door, but he couldn’t help but pause, however briefly, to get a better glimpse of this intruder.

Their eyes locked for a split second before they ducked through the doors--imperfectly, like an echo, or a muffled word--but strangely, Lando thought he could hear the ocean.

“Luke! Luke, don't - it's a trap! It's a trap!” Leia screamed after him, even as the Imperials hauled her through the doorway, and Lando started. _That_ was Skywalker. That was the man Vader was hunting. But he couldn’t pause to think about it--they were nearly at the intersection. His people appeared, calm and quiet, but deadly as they aimed their weapons at the Imps. Almost by blind rote, Lando disarmed the stormtroopers.

“Well done. Hold them in the security tower--and keep it _quiet_. Move.” The last word was as much for himself as it was for his people. He had been running on adrenaline for the past two days. As Lando escorted the Imps out, Lando shoved past Leia to remove Chewbacca’s cuffs. He tried his best to focus on the task at hand as Leia hissed,

“What do you think you're doing?”

“We're getting out of here,” he told her. Gods damn it all, but these cuffs were ridiculous--why the hell would you want three separate locks?

“I knew all along it had to be a mistake,” the droid strapped to Chewbacca’s back said smugly, and Lando honestly was grateful for the support, but just as he got the locks free, he was forced down onto his knees by the full strength of an angry Wookie.

“Do you think that after what you did to Han we're going to trust you?” Leia snarled. Breath was leaving Lando’s body fast, squeezed from his lungs.

“I had no choice!” he tried, but Chewbacca’s eyes went black and he pressed down harder.

“Oh, we understand, don't we, Chewie? He had no choice,” Leia mocked him, looking to all who might have seen her like a vengeful goddess, reveling in the ability to deny mercy.

“I'm just trying to help!”

“We don't need any of your help,” Leia growled.

There was no time. There was no time and Lando’s air was running out, and they needed to reach Han at the platform.

“Haa--” he choked out.

“What?”

“Ha-a--h-a-an,” he tried again.

“It sounds like Han!” the droid said. Lando gathered what little air he could for this next sentence, tears prickling at his eyes, hands scrabbling uselessly at Chewbacca’s arms.

“There's still a chance to save Han...at the East Platform--” Almost before he was done speaking, Leia had ordered them off and they took off running. Lando, meanwhile, fell to his knees, gasping for air. He only let himself indulge in feeling like the world was out to get him for a moment before he got himself back up again. Every breath of air he took felt like fire, and everything felt off-balance.

Leia had found a weapons cache, and had taken a large rifle.

“Follow me, I know a shortcut,” Lando said through his cracked throat. The last princess of Alderaan looked at him with eyes like fire, still a being of vengeance, but no longer directed at him, and nodded. Ignoring his battered lungs and throat, Lando took off at a jog through the hallways he knew so well.

Bespin. Who ever would have thought his beautiful city, the crowning achievement of his life, would come to this? The airy hallways he had helped design for space and comfort, for grace, were now the site of subterfuge--of smuggler’s priorities and desperate chances. He was only glad he did know these halls like his own skin.

They made it to the landing platform, and Leia charged ahead as soon as the door was open. The only thing she was able to do, however, was shoot at Fett’s departing ship. Lando kept his eyes on the hallway for stormtroopers, and sure enough, some showed up and began shooting. It was clear, however, that they were poor shots, so Lando quickly led them around the doorway to safety, running to an elevator that brought them away from the Imperials and toward the _Falcon._ He attempted to open the door and cursed.

“The security code’s been changed,” he said shortly.

“Artoo, you can tell the computer to override the security system,” the droid strapped to Chewbacca’s back exclaimed, and to Lando’s surprise, an astromech, apparently known to Leia and Chewie if their lack of protest was any indication, warbled and went to work on the door. As they watched with bated breath, Lando prayed that not all of the security codes had been changed, and let out a breath of relief when a microphone sprang out of the wall. It was connected to the the citywide intercom and could only be accessed with Lando’s personal codes. The vibrations under his feet were increasing in frequency. They _needed_ to leave soon, and the time for subtlety was over. He kept it short and to the point.

“Attention! This is Lando Calrissian. The Empire is taking control of the city. I advise everyone to leave before more Imperial troops arrive.”

Lando hoped against hope that most of his citizens were already out.

The blue astromech suddenly started sparking and screamed. A groan of utter frustration rose in his throat, but he kept it down. They didn’t have _time_ for this! “This way!” he said, and started running. To his eternal gratefulness, Leia followed.

The city was in chaos. Many of the people milling around weren’t faces he was particularly familiar with--visiting dignitaries, business people, vacationers--and for that he was grateful. When he dared to glance out the window for half a second, he saw some of the emergency ships silhouetted against the sky, and fierce gladness gave him one last burst of energy.

“Get to the emergency exits!” he roared at people he passed. “In the maintenance shafts!” Several people changed direction and he had to _believe_ they would all make it. Meanwhile, Leia and Chewie were viciously shooting at every Imp who dared to cross their path. Lando could only be grateful, but he did have to bodily haul Leia away from the line of fire once or twice.

Finally, the blue astromech opened the door, and released a cloud of gas to cover their escape. Lando made a break for it, trusting that Leia and Chewie would follow. He ran toward the _Falcon_ and paused to lay cover fire for Chewbacca. He needed to get that droid onboard, and he was more familiar with any changes to the _Falcon_ ’s controls than Lando would have been. As he continued to shoot at the Imperials, who were crowded in the smoke-filled door, he realized that Leia, in her vengeful hyperfocus, wouldn’t go on the ship without encouragement.

“Leia!” he called, and she glanced at him. Her eyes were full of rage and sorrow, deeper than the atmosphere of Bespin. “Go!” Almost seeming startled, she blinked, and then ran to the ship. Lando took a few more shots to cover her, then made a break for the ramp himself. They took off too quickly--Chewie clearly knew some shortcuts to jumpstart the old gal, and rose into the twilight of Bespin.

Lando felt briefly, oddly, as he felt them leave the ground and he braced himself against the wall, that he was suspended over the entire roaring dark. He glanced at his wrist and saw a coded message from Lobot, short, but numbing in its relief.

_All safe._

When he made his way into the cockpit, he was struck by the thought of Skywalker. Had he made it out? Had he managed to escape from the trap? And then, as he sagged, leaning on the back of Leia’s chair, he realized it didn't matter anyway, because none of it worked out the way he'd hoped, and not just Skywalker, but Han and the rest of Cloud City paid the price. That stung.

Still, he could honor that sacrifice by keeping Leia safe, though the promise had never been charged to him. But just as this thought came to him, Leia’s voice dashed it.

“We have to go back,” Leia said with an iron conviction, quiet though the declaration was.

“What?”

Lando thought bitterly that she was keeping it damn difficult to keep her safe. “I know where Luke is,” she said, and something about the utter _thoughtlessness_ of it--the sense that it was _obvious_ , of _course_ they needed to get Luke--stayed suspended in Lando’s mind, a balloon tethered by a passing tree branch. What was so important, so _coveted_ about this man that not only was the Empire willing to set up an elaborate operation personally headed by Darth Vader, but that Alderaan’s last princess, who also happened to be one of the Alliance’s top generals, was willing to risk capture moments after narrow escape?

“But what about those fighters?” Chewie, to his surprised, barked out an agreement with him.

“Chewie, just do it,” Leia ordered.

“But what about Vader?” This time, Chewie let out a frustrated growl. “All right, all right, all right.” The _Falcon_ sharply but gracefully turned, powering back toward Cloud City. Leia directed them to the very bottom, below even the emergency hangar bays, down to the space only used for weather vanes, taking the reading of the planet’s pulse.

“Look, someone’s up there,” Lando breathed in amazement. Who could have survived in the open air, below the city, for even a short amount of time? The winds down here were so fierce that they had dared not build any lower.

“It's Luke,” Leia confirmed, though gods knew how she had known. “Chewie, slow down. Slow down and we'll get under him. Lando, open the top hatch.”

Lando removed himself to the hatch, and wondered what kind of man deliberately sent themselves through Cloud City’s underbelly--what kind of man besides himself?

He clipped himself into the hatch, took a deep breath, and rose, for what he realized might be the last time, into the air of his beloved Bespin. There was just enough time to catch a glimpse of a bruised face, sandy blond hair and blood, and then Luke let go.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke Skywalker quite literally fell into his arms, and it was like the whole world stopped. Lando was glad he had had the foresight to clip himself to the Falcon, because he was blind to anything but  _ connection _ and  _ sparks with fire _ and 

_ there you are _ . 

_ Here you are. _

His mother had been wrong, he didn’t feel strung out, he just felt full, and not just because of the body nestled in his arms ( _ precious,  _ his mind whispered with a certainty,  _ beloved _ ), but because all his veins felt like they were filled with light. His heartbeat stuttered, then adjusted, steadily thumping, and he  _ felt  _ how the strength of his own pulse provided stability to Luke’s own, how the young Jedi’s heartbeat calmed down after what had clearly been a harrowing experience, using Lando as an anchor.

( _ Your fault _ , his mind slyly whispered.  _ Your own beloved, hurt by your actions. _ )

His skin felt like electricity was bouncing along it, skittering and stammering with revelations. There was a new star burning bright in his mind, spinning and dancing and weaving until he felt dizzy from it. It had only been a few seconds since he had caught Luke. The hatch closed behind them, too loud in Lando’s ears. His hand accidentally brushed Luke’s remaining one as he secured an arm around his waist to help him walk. A tongue of flame, invisible, jumped between them at the point of contact, travelling along his arm and pulsing along his entire body.

Something wasn’t right, however. Luke’s side of the bond was shuttered off, turning inward on itself in utter, complete agony. It connected to his by the barest of threads, despite the waves and waves coming from Lando’s side. With a start, Lando realized that the bond was not complete for this very reason. And he knew, suddenly, that Luke almost certainly wasn’t even aware that it had formed.

_ Well _ , his mind attempted to mitigate,  _ that’s that _ . In shock, he allowed Leia to take Luke from him, though it screamed against every one of his instincts, and he continued about the business of making them all safe. 

When Luke stumbled into the cockpit moments later, Lando steadied Luke as he sat down before he’d even realized he’d moved. Luke glanced at him, and he thought he saw a flicker of recognition, a question, but then his eyes clouded over and Lando heard him whisper,  _ “Ben, why didn’t you tell me? _ ”

Luke’s side of the bond heaved. Like he was crying. 

There was nothing Lando wanted more than to soothe him. He felt it as a physical ache in his chest. 

But, as his mother had once said, he was practical, not romantic. He busied himself with the business of escape, and tried not to feel. 

They rendezvoused with the Alliance, and Leia helped Luke to the much-better-equipped rebel medbay before Lando could even offer. He gritted his teeth and set himself to the task of proper docking procedures. Chewie still deliberately shoved him while making his way about the cabin. All right, he supposed he deserved at least some of that, but he was  _ not _ in a mood to deal with it.

Afterwards, he isolated himself and stared at the ceiling, and tried not to focus on the light swirling behind his eyes. The bond prodded at him to go find Luke, and his experience told him to do the more important thing and sleep. His body chemistry had different ideas, however--the bond had caused his hormonal and neurotransmitter levels to skyrocket to abnormal levels. Eventually, he gave up trying to sleep, and grabbed his padd. There were still a lot of logistical arrangements to be made concerning his people, and it was better to get it arranged sooner rather than later. 

Soon enough, though, a peculiar mix of crushing guilt and insatiable curiosity plagued him. He put aside his work and went into the Alliance databases, searching a name: Luke Skywalker. Not ten minutes later, his eyes were fit to pop out of his head--destroyer of the first Death Star? A Jedi? Son of Anakin Skywalker, one of the heroes of the Clone Wars? It was almost too much to believe that the man  _ existed _ , let alone that he was bonded to him inside his mind.

Lando chose to stay on the Alliance cruiser instead of on the  _ Falcon _ . Why? Because he knew the ship in the way that made him ache, though he’d never set foot on it before. The cruiser was a cobbled-together, beat-up, outdated mess of a ship with gleaming, polished pathways and sweeping conference rooms for Alliance dignitaries. Mere feet away, mechanics and Rebel soldiers scurried about the side halls, making do with prayer and whatever meagre supplies were sent their way. Lando knew this ship in his bones, its struggles and its hope and its pride. He seized the deja vu with both hands and held on tight to carve out his place. Perhaps the  _ Falcon  _ had once felt the same, but the absence of its true owner echoed in every distinctive smuggler-style repair, too prominent still for Lando to feel at home. For now, this small operation, filled to the brim with the vital bureaucracy and grime essential to civilization everywhere, was familiar enough to be comfortable. 

Cloud City had been his life. Could he truly trust in the certainty that had welled in him as soon as they had landed here--the certainty that he would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t go retrieve Han personally? Would he truly be able to abandon his people in a time of crisis?

Some of his people, including Lobot, were also on the ship. He met with them as soon as possible, gaining permission to use one of the Alliance’s smaller meeting rooms.

“Well, the evacuation routes worked perfectly,” said Emony, the woman in charge of Engineering in Cloud City. She had also been in charge of planning the evacuation routes, and the construction of the passages through which most of the lives of Cloud City had been saved. From the look of her grease-stained hands and clothing, she had been making herself useful on the cruiser as well. No doubt the overworked staff was always grateful for an extra pair of hands. “All of my people got out, even the ones actively in atmo.”

“What  _ happened? _ ” asked Drudo, a nervous young man who had been in charge of archival records. “The files all got backed up and sent out to remote, encrypted storage, but we got almost no warning.”

“A rescue operation needed to be completed,  _ quietly _ , before the evacuation of the city could commence en masse,” Lobot answered smoothly. No one said anything after that--they might have argued if Lando himself had brought it up, but if Lobot said something needed to be done, then it needed to be done, end of discussion. Lobot was the technical secretary and supervisor to end all secretaries and supervisors.

“The Empire has officially taken over Bespin,” Lando said, redirecting everyone’s attention toward him. “As Baron Administrator of Cloud City, I would like to extend our official support to the Alliance’s cause, by the authority entrusted to me. However, I won’t do this without at least half of your support, as the heads of Cloud City’s major departments.”

“We’re with you, sir,” Emony said immediately. Murmurings of agreement and grins went around the table. Even Drudo nodded decisively. A rush of fierce appreciation for these people, fighters and bureaucrats all, warmed Lando right down to his toes. 

“All right then.” He cleared his throat, suddenly thick with emotion. “Individual citizens of the city are free to pursue other avenues, of course, but Cloud City has officially joined the Rebellion.” He hesitated a little before speaking more. That hesitation got everyone’s attention--their leader was always so sure of himself. “We are in a time of crisis,” he said. “So I realize that this may come as a shock for some of you, but...I’ve decided to go away, for a while. We didn’t just lose Cloud City. I lost a friend to the bounty hunter Jango Fett--frozen in carbonite and taken to Jabba the Hutt. It is thanks to his sacrifice that so many people were given the time to evacuate and all of our information was saved. I view it as my personal responsibility to go and rescue him. He would have done the same for me.” Around the table, his people nodded. Some were upset, but all looked understanding. “I will be relying on all of you as my council to lead our people in my absence. Regaining Cloud City and Bespin will otherwise continue to be my top priority.” He stepped back, spreading his hands with a slight bow of his head. “I must be going, but I trust you will work this out within your individual departments. If you have any issues, contact me for the next month, but after that, Lobot should be your first point of contact.”

“Go kick some Imperial ass for us, sir,” Emony grinned. More people followed her example with exclamations of encouragement and pats on the back as he passed by. Lando was still smiling as he made his way back to his quarters. Damn good people, every single one of them, and he’d fight for all of them to grasp their way out of the dark, claw their way back up to their clouds.

He was still doing his best to ignore the bond, humming in distinct counterpoint to the familiar rhythms of the ship. Beauty floated at the edges of his mind like flotsam, maddeningly out of reach. For two days, Lando devoted himself to practicalities, muted emotions that were not his own bursting brightly on the edge of his awareness and dissipating behind those shields like ice. If he concentrated, he could feel the shadows behind them. Eventually, though, he realized that his mind was spinning, uneasy, at the  _ wrongness _ of the bond being incomplete, being blocked off. It actually made him physically nauseous. He knew, then, that he couldn’t put it off any longer.

Lando steeled himself and walked to the medbay. It was late afternoon, according to the chronometer in his quarters. Leia was there, as she had been for a good portion of her days. She stiffened when she saw him--would’ve growled at him, he was sure, if she had been a Wookie. 

“Your Highness,” he said, respectfully, because he was nothing if not polite. He then forced himself to look at Luke’s face. Huge blue eyes blinked at him curiously. “Master Skywalker. You’re not looking too bad.”

“No thanks to you,” Leia said pointedly, glaring at him. To Lando’s surprise, Luke frowned and turned to her with what almost looked like disapproval. 

“Leia, could you give us a moment?” She turned to him, incredulous, but relented at the look on his face. Within seconds, they were alone. Drifting and anchored, all at once. Lando didn’t even realize he was looking at the floor until he snapped up at the sound of Luke’s voice. “You rescued me. Thank you,” Luke said quietly. Lando barked out a laugh, incredulous.

“Master Skywalker, I’m also the one who got you in that situation in the first place,” he said, and forced himself to sit down in the chair Leia had vacated, scraping it along the floor to place it backwards. A physical barrier. But his skin was already crawling less, being so close to him. The urge to reach out and touch the place where the prosthetic was being formed, run his fingers across the seam, was nearly overpowering, but Lando had nothing if not control. “Not to mention I got Han placed in carbonite and handed over to a bounty hunter.”

“That’s definitely the narrative Leia’s been feeding me these past few days.” Lando’s eyes narrowed as he puzzled that out-- _ had he asked about me? Or had Leia seen fit to warn him ahead of time _ ? And, most importantly,  _ does he know? _ Again, Luke interrupted his thoughts. “But I’m sensing she left out part of the story. I’d like to know your perspective.” Lando blinked. Luke sounded like he was talking about a business proposition, not a gamble that had nearly cost his and Han’s life. “And call me Luke,” he added with an oddly self-deprecating grin. “I’m no Master.” 

“Luke, then.” Lando settled back in his chair with a sigh, and forced himself not to dwell on how right the word had seemed on his tongue. “Vader arrived just before the  _ Falcon _ did,” he started carefully. He forced himself not to pick at his sleeve, a tell he thought he had abolished long ago in the sabacc circuits. “He promised no one would get hurt as long as we cooperated. Said nothing about handing Han over to a bounty hunter, or about Chewie and Leia being unable to leave. All he told me was that he was laying a trap for you, and that no one else would be involved, and my city could stay out from under the Empire.” Lando sighed. It sounded so foolish to him, as he said it, to have believed any of the Empire’s promises. 

Luke was frowning. It was only by the grace of what little made it through the shielded bond that Lando was reassured it was a frown of consideration and not of negative judgement. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, blowing all of Lando’s other thoughts out of his mind.

“What?” Lando huffed out, surprised and, somehow, awed. 

“Well, if it hadn’t been for me--I was reckless,” Luke explained, without actually saying anything, but he elaborated. “I was told not to go to Cloud City. And instead I let my feelings about my friends get in the way of the Rebellion and the safety of your people. Your whole city was forced to evacuate and give up their livelihood because I didn’t learn control in time.”

“Whoa, hang on.” Despite himself, Lando let a hand rest on Luke’s (clothed) good arm. It brought him closer than he had planned, and those blue eyes, wide, turned to him. “My people all knew that we might have been forced to evacuate no matter what. We knew we probably couldn’t have avoided the Empire forever, not a valuable mining operation like ours. You just sort of...streamlined the process.” That got a real laugh out of Luke, short and bright. It echoed in Lando’s head like bells.

“I guess we both made some questionable decisions, then,” Luke smiled.

“I don’t think you wanting to save your friends was a bad thing.”

“And I don’t think you putting the lives of your city above a guy you didn't know was a bad thing, either.”

“Well, then.” Lando smiled, and held out his hand. “Luke Skywalker, I’m Lando Calrissian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Luke grinned again-- _ Force, he looks so  _ young _ like that-- _ and placed his uninjured left hand in Lando’s.

Lando had almost forgotten about the bond until it exploded outward the second they touched skin to skin. The groundwork was already laid, so it wasn’t as utterly overwhelming as it had been at first, but the bridge between them filled out and rippled, settling, almost sighing with the rightness of it. Luke blinked. He blinked a lot, and Lando got nervous.

“That’s different,” he said. For the first time in a  _ very _ long time, Lando found himself speechless, nerves catching in his vocal chords. He swallowed hard, but the feeling didn’t dissipate. He knew his anxiety was leaking across the bond, but he wasn’t sure how to stop it.

“Ummm.” That was a good place to start. “It’s my people’s heritage--we’re not,  _ weren’t _ , Force-sensitive enough for the Temple on Coruscant, and we weren’t fond of the ban on attachment anyway, but we’re Force-sensitive enough for...well, I guess you can say there’s a genetic component to it, but--” he stopped himself, reordering his thoughts. Took a deep breath. Kept Luke’s blue-eyed gaze in his peripheral vision. “My people, we form Force bonds spontaneously, upon meeting people we’re...compatible, with, on some level.” There. Not a declaration of love or anything absurd, but an explanation. The confusion in Luke’s face cleared somewhat, but other than that, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Lando caught flashes of quick-moving thought, but nothing definitive. “It formed when I caught you on the Falcon,” he continued quietly. “You were, understandably, a bit preoccupied to notice it.” Luke began frowning again. 

“Like the training bond I have with Master Yoda,” he mused. “But spontaneous?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Lando said, desperate for any form of acceptance. He realized he was still holding onto Luke’s arm, and made himself let go and stand up. “I’m sure you’re tired, I’ll leave you to your privacy--”

“No, stay,” Luke said, almost  _ pleaded _ , and Lando really was gone for him already. 

They played sabacc. Turned out the kid was actually halfway decent. Didn't mean Lando was going to let him win, though; he had his pride to consider.

“You cheat,” Luke laughed after Lando won the third time in a row. Lando put a hand to his heart in mock hurt. 

“Now, Luke, I would  _ never _ \--”

“Lando, I saw the card in your sleeve!”

“Now  _ that’s _ insulting. I would never be that sloppy.” Mirth bubbled between them through the bond. Lando could almost see it shimmering in front of them, but when he tried to concentrate on it, it vanished, like a mirage. 

“Luke?” Both of them glanced up to see Leia in the doorway, lips pursed slightly. “They gave us the go-ahead, when you’ve recovered,” she said, stepping a little further into the room. With a start, Lando realized she would’ve sat down if he hadn’t been there, and that she hadn’t been expecting him to be there, given that he had been there for...two and a half hours, apparently, if the chrono on the wall was correct. Lando stood, offering his chair. Leia looked at him, but she took it, and didn’t object when he remained in the room. She kept her gaze on him, and a second later he understood why. “They said you requested to be a part of the mission,” she said, looking him over with no small hint of suspicion. “Said you made it a condition of Cloud City joining the Rebellion, even.”

“That’s right,” Lando said, no beating around the bush. “This is my mess, and I’m going to clean it up. Han was my friend, too.”

“ _ Our _ mess,” Luke corrected him quietly. 

“Luke, you can’t believe it was your fault--” Leia protested.

“Maybe not entirely, but I certainly contributed,” Luke said gently. “We all made mistakes, and lot of people paid the price. Han was one of them. The people of Cloud City paid the rest. I can’t do much about displacing the people of Cloud City, but I  _ can _ try and rescue Han.”

“We will,” Lando reassured him, putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder without a thought. He realized his mistake when Leia’s gaze narrowed, glancing at the point of contact. He decided to take that as a cue to leave, so Leia didn’t try and interrogate him. “I’d better start seeing about preparations for the  _ Falcon _ , then. I’ll see you both later,” he said, though he glanced at Luke as he said it, and strode out the door. 

“Later” turned out to be the next day, around the same time, and then the next, until they were both expecting it, which made Lando think this was dangerously close to becoming a habit. They played sabacc, but just as often talked.

“Tell me about Tatooine,” Lando said the next time they were playing. Luke’s eyes sparkled, which, frankly, was a little ridiculous.

“Trying to get me distracted?”

“Trying to find out information for our rescue mission.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to hear about my childhood.”

“I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an ulterior motive involved.”

“And you’re a very, very good liar.” Luke sat back, placed the cards face-down on his lap. Lando did the same, watching the way the adam’s apple in Luke’s throat bobbed, highlighting the hollow just above his collarbone. “Tatooine? Well, I grew up among the moisture farmers. Only things to fear if you’re a moisture farmer are Jabba, Jawas, Tuskens, dying of thirst on a trip to Mos Espa, or maybe just dying of boredom. Other than that it’s not so bad.”

“Sounds like you hated it,” Lando said, unsure if he was supposed to laugh, and settling for a small smile. Something hummed between them when Luke caught sight of it. Luke’s side of the bond was still heavily shielded. Fear of what that meant kept Lando from bringing it up. Besides, Luke had just been through an awful trauma. Maybe he just had to give him some time.

“Well, the word ‘hate’ isn’t quite right, but I was never meant for it, either,” Luke said thoughtfully. “My uncle and aunt, they were content with life there. And it wasn’t all miserable. But I’m too much like--” He trailed off, suddenly pensive. His side of the bond rolled, a dark sea. Lando wanted to suspend them both in it, push them up the surface until they broke forward to the light. “How much--how much can you see,  _ feel _ , across the bond?” Luke asked abruptly.

Care was called for. “Some emotions, some thoughts,” Lando said carefully. “You keep a lot of it shielded. I’m not sure how to do that, so you probably get more from me than I do from you. I’m…sorry, for that.”

“Don’t apologize,” Luke said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. He turned himself towards Lando carefully before Lando could move to help him. Lando’s eye twitched--yet another tell he thought he’d long been rid of. “No, really, it’s kind of...nice. It feels good, somehow  _ fulfilled _ , in a sense. Like it was supposed to be there.”  

“Well, I’m sorry if you’ve been getting my frustration over the  _ Falcon _ ,” Lando joked, because he was  _ not _ about to attempt to address the last sentence. “Honestly, I’m not sure how that thing runs, some days.”

“You had her before Han, right?”

Lando didn’t like the way Luke’s mouth seemed to form Han’s name--hesitant, almost reverently. Han had Leia, true royalty if there ever was any. Sure, Han could be greedy for money, always had been, but he had never been greedy with hearts. Lando hoped to hell he hadn’t had  _ both _ of them. 

_ Are you in love with him?  _ The question sprang unbidden to the front of his mind. Lando berated himself--he had barely known Luke for a few days, and no doubt his hormone levels were still rocketing up and down. Bond or no bond, it would be absurd to act like they had any kind of relationship other than this strange, tentative acquaintance. Ruthlessly, he broke down the emotion behind the question, until he had convinced himself that there was no feeling but simple curiosity.

“Yeah,” Lando said. “We made the Kessel run together, twelve parsecs.”

“You were a part of that madness?” Luke laughed. “Well, then, at least I can trust your piloting skills. I think.”

“What, getting you away from a Star Destroyer wasn’t enough?” Lando shot back. He grinned. “Well, I guess it must take a lot to impress the man who blew up the Death Star.” To his surprise, Luke _blushed_ , honest-to-gods blushed, and it was _beautiful_ , and Lando wanted his brain to stop thinking things without his permission now.

“You’re laughing at me,” Luke accused, even as Lando turned to leave. Chewie had commed him for help on the  _ Falcon _ .

“I would never dare laugh at the man who blew up the Death Star,” Lando retorted, which set Luke off laughing behind him. The sound echoed across the bond long after Lando had gone out of earshot.

“We’re going to need to head out sooner rather than later,” Leia said the next day, the three of them crowded around Luke’s sickbed. 

“It would be helpful if I was there,” Luke protested. “Neither of you know Tatooine as well as I do.”

“No, but I know seediness,” Lando countered. “I agree with the princess,” he continued. “Chewie and I should go first, track Jabba the Hutt and the bounty hunter. Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve been to Mos Eisley, either.”

“Mos Eisley is still under Imperial control,” Leia cautioned. “You’re a wanted fugitive for helping us escape.” Lando shrugged.

“So I’ll disguise myself, and I’ll use bribes, and anything else I can think of,” he said. “Not the first time I’ve had to make my way through Imperial territory.”

“You might have to shave the mustache,” Luke teased with a glimmer in his eye. Lando narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t even  _ think _ something so horrible.”

“You’ll need credits,” Leia interrupted, bringing focus back into the conversation. She looked disapproving. She was very protective of Luke, though considering they had almost gotten caught by Imperials trying to rescue him on her request, it wasn’t that surprising. All of them were, Han and Chewie too. They had been shocked, and immediately concerned, when they found out Vader’s trap was for their friend. Luke Skywalker had the unique privilege of being universally loved. Lando counted himself in that, too--Luke was one of those very rare people who seemed almost saturated in compassion and gentleness, despite all that he had suffered. Even now, days after meeting him, days after a horrific attack, Lando could feel him settling into quiet grace and power, like a river thrumming through a mountain, wearing steadily away at everything it encountered, leaving beauty wherever it went. 

“I’ll be able to get funds,” Lando replied, just a split second before the silence would have become awkward. He stood. “I’ll start making preparations, both on the  _ Falcon _ and for the rest of my people. If you’ll excuse me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Three months in the hellscape that was Tatooine and Lando was having a really bad day. Worse, it was definitely  _ supposed  _ to have been a good day. Today was the day Luke was going to rendezvous with them on Tatooine, and the bond in his head could stop shimmering like a mirage at the distance between them. Sometimes nausea crept up in the midday heat of Tatooine’s twin suns, because sometimes the air moved in waves and his head echoed back at him and it just was too much. Chewie looked at him with narrowed eyes when that happened, perceptive and wise, and it made him remember that Chewbacca the Wookie had been born two hundred years before the Battle of Yavin, and had worked closely with Jedi in the past. He wondered, uncomfortably, if Chewie knew exactly what he was experiencing. 

Still, now was not the time to mope over his nonexistent love life. Now was the time to run away from womp rats.

Lando had been certain Luke was exaggerating when he said womp rats were a little over two meters long. Now, with a pack of the nasty things after him, it was clear he hadn’t been. Lando had never been more sorry to be proved wrong in his life, and vowed to take Luke at his word pretty much from then on. Not only were womp rats big, they were  _ ugly _ kriffing things, and he was pretty sure that most of them were diseased, based on the foaming mouths and too-bright eyes he caught a glimpse of whenever he dared glance back.

_ “Last time we trust an Imperial contact for directions! _ ” Chewie snarled in Shryiiwook, turning around to haphazardly shoot at the pack before continuing on. “ _ Especially one of yours _ !”

“You can yell at me all you like when we get out of here!” Lando retorted, scrambling across the canyon ground, cursing as pebbles went flying and his feet slid. He wasn’t fast enough to afford turning around and shooting at the pack, so his only option was running, and wasn’t  _ that _ a blow to his pride. Suddenly, he skidded to avoid running into a wall--and realized that precious seconds had been wasted as he slowed, frantically looking for a way out. The wall was a dead end, and Chewie had already started climbing, but Lando couldn’t seem to find a handhold. The womp rats were almost upon him, when--

The horrible screeching noises the womp rats made doubled briefly in conjunction with a rapid-fire series of blaster bolts, and then the sounds fell back. Lando looked up, expecting to see Chewie, and was surprised to see none other than Luke, leaning on a rocky outcrop, rifle in hand. 

He was wearing black. It made Lando’s mouth run dry. 

Lando finished climbing up, clumsily, accepting a hand up from Luke to stand. The view was great--the setting suns created swathes of colors ringing around Luke’s figure, like a holo-painting of the Jedi of old. Around his hair was burnished gold, trailing down to red, fading to purple by his feet. Belatedly, Lando wondered how much of it was getting through the bond. Luke’s mouth twitched up slightly into a small smile.

“See, Chewie? Now you can yell at me,” Lando grunted, not wanting to think about a certain Jedi Knight’s facial expressions and what they might mean. 

“ _ I’ll let him do it _ ,” Chewie grumbled, even as he pulled Luke in for a hug, checking him over for remaining signs of injury. 

“Hey, Chewie,” Luke said. He glanced down, grinning. “Lando. Guess we’re even.”

“We’ll be even when you get me away from a Star Destroyer.” Luke reached down to pull Lando up with his prosthetic arm. Lando was unbelievably curious and horribly guilty about it in turns. 

“None of that,” Luke said sternly.

“You can't tell me not to feel guilty when you feel just as guilty,” Lando retorted. Unable to help himself, he brushed his hand against Luke’s wrist as they walked back to the transport. A sigh escaped his lips as the bond flared between them warmly, finally feeling right after the distance.

“Touché. Womp rats, Lando?” Luke teased, a glimmer in his eye as they clambered aboard the clunky speeder. 

“I never knew they were that big or we wouldn't have gone that way.”

“I  _ told _ you--”

“Some backwater kid tells me there are  _ rats _ a little more than  _ two meters long _ on a damn desert planet and I'm supposed to believe him? Huge snakes, sure. Giant worms, even. But rats? Kriffing hells,  _ no _ . Who wants to think about that stuff?” Chewie, shaking his head at their banter, started driving the speeder with a huff of annoyance.

“Speaking of giant worms, any way in to Jabba?” 

“ _ Harder to find than a changeling in a crowd _ ,” Chewie grumbled. 

“Everybody says they know someone who can help and everybody’s information is wrong,” Lando said, frustrated. “Jabba’s got cover-ups for his cover-ups, and informants everywhere, but no one wants to actually work for him, let alone help a double agent inside.” Luke frowns thoughtfully as sped across the landscape. 

“Have you tried some of the moisture farmers?”

“What?” Lando turned to look at Luke, incredulous. The Jedi--and he  _ was  _ a Jedi, Lando could see and feel that now on some fundamental level--glanced at him, nodding decisively at whatever conclusion he’d come to.

“Yeah. Some of the ones on the edge of the Dune Sea, they’ve got water deals with him. No way to farm out there at the palace, so they’ve got to import everything. Might be able to smuggle someone in on a transport for the right amount of credits.”

“I’ll be damned,” Lando grinned. Despite near-death by womp rats still in the recent past, the day was ending wonderfully.

~

Two whole months slipped by, thoughtless as sand in the wind. Lando filled his days talking to moisture farmers and scoundrels of every kind. Some were willing to part with blueprints of the palace or supplies or names for extra water, for Cho-Mar, for Imperial currency. If there was anything Lando knew how to do, it was rubbing elbows. Sometimes he was able to tap into genuine feeling for people--some of those unwillingly under Jabba’s thumb, the moisture farmers and some of the tradesman, they were honest folk just trying to survive. With others, he relied more on the slick, oily charisma he had employed so often for use with executives who had never worked with their hands. Sometimes he sleazed about in pubs and turned his laughter cruel, donning the mantle of his much younger, much more foolish self. Those were the days he stumbled home, staring at Tatooine’s star-washed evening, and tried to breathe. Home, to Luke. 

They took up on the old Kenobi homestead, out near the Dune Sea. Chewie decided to stay aboard the Falcon and “ _ stay among the ghosts of the living and not the dead _ ”, as he put it. Lando far and away preferred taking up residence with the ghost of someone he didn’t know versus someone he did, even if, according to Luke, that ghost was sometimes literal and blue and talked. There were days Lando was glad to be only mildly Force-sensitive if it meant he didn’t have to converse with glowy blue people. Luke caught that thought and snorted where he was making some early morning tea. Figured that caff was too expensive to bother with on this godforsaken planet, so Lando grudgingly made do with tea.

“Why are you up right now, Lando?” Luke squinted up at him as he poured them each a mug. The question was confusing. Lando had been up at the same time as Luke for the entirety of their stay here, and said as much.

“Luke, I’m always up this early.”

“Yes, but--I’m up this early for meditation, and because it’s easier to exercise while it’s cool,” Luke explained, almost impatiently. “You don’t do anything that can’t wait until later.”

“Maybe I just like spending time with you, Luke.” Lando found honesty surprisingly easy these days, alone with Luke in the haze of the desert.

“Is it really that simple?” Luke murmured, eyes searching Lando, piercing blue like glare on water, but then turning away, unfocused. Lando wondered what he was thinking, but Luke let nothing slip through the shields intact. Thoughts flitted like shadows and whispered like blurs, but Lando couldn’t make sense of them. He didn't know what question Luke was really asking. Lando answered, regardless.

“Yes.” Lando sat down, as quietly as he could manage, beside Luke, blowing slowly on his hot tea. Smoothed down and deliberate, none of these sounds jarred the mood. “What do you plan to do today?” Lando asked, keeping his voice low.

“After meditation, I’m going to head into town. I just need some things for my new lightsaber.” Hearing Luke speak so casually the name of a near-mythical item made Lando shiver. It also made him frown.

“Aren’t parts for those a bit hard to come by, nowadays?”

“Try nearly impossible,” Luke sighed, considering. “Actually, most of the components only require basic mechanical engineering skills, which I have. The power cells and most of the other components won’t be too hard to come by. It’s the crystals that are the problem. All of the old sacred sites are heavily guarded or destroyed. The Holy City on Jedha used to have some of the last remaining kyber artifacts, but even that’s gone now.” A sort of haunted bitterness filled his eyes and he was quiet for a moment. Lando had had the privilege of dealing with the Guardians of the Whills on several occasions, old scrappy bunch of hopeful fools they were, and knew without a doubt that Luke would have loved to learn from them.

“Where were the crystals found, before?” Lando asked. A tentative plan was beginning to form in his mind, but he needed details. Luke glanced at him, puzzled at the thoughts he could feel moving rapidly across their connection, but dutifully listed the planets.

“Dantooine, Ilum, Adega, and Jedha,” he said. “Artificial crystals used to be in use, too, Yoda said, but there’s no one left who knows how to make them, and most of them were destroyed.” After waiting for a moment for Lando to speak, Luke prompted, “What are you thinking?” Lando scraped out his chair and sat down, considering.

“The Alliance  _ does _ have a few remnants of the Jedi Order among their ranks,” he mused. “Mon Mothma is the only one who knows them all, I think. What if we could get in contact?” Before he had finished speaking, Luke’s eyes had lit up with excitement, and he knew he was on the right track. 

“If I could really talk to someone who was in the old Jedi Order…” he said a little breathlessly, questions darting this way and that in his mind. Lando couldn’t help but smile at Luke’s excitement at a possible link to his heritage. “There's Ben, of course, but he hasn't shown up in a while...if I could talk to someone still living...”

“I’ll send a line to Mon Mothma, see if she can send someone in person,” Lando offered. Luke beamed.

“That would be amazing.”

“Want some company when you go into town today?” Lando asked on impulse. Luke looked up in surprise, but easily nodded his agreement. 

“Sure. We need food, anyway.” They both finished their tea and grabbed their cloaks, and off they went. First, they stopped by a few specialty shops on the outskirts, where people were happy to do business with someone who really knew what they were talking about. An uneasiness grew in Luke the closer they got to the center of town, away from the mechanical people Luke dealt with regularly and more toward the market, and Lando didn’t understand why until he saw the guarded, suspicious stares. Luke noticed Lando’s expression and shook his head.  _ Not worth it _ , he sent.  _ They’ll take my money regardless. _ His words took Lando’s attention from the people.

_ Wait, we can talk like this _ ? he tried. Luke laughed aloud. 

_ Yes, Lando _ , he said, still chuckling. 

_ Huh.  _ He was going to say something more, but then Luke yawned. He shook his head to shake it off, and Lando realized that Luke seemed more tired than usual.

“Are you all right?”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Luke admitted, beginning to make his way around the market. “Too many dreams.” He paused while refilling his water skin, paying the vendor and thanking him in a local dialect. “What do you dream about, Lando?” The question surprised him, but he was far from unwilling to answer it.

“I dream about flying.” Flashes of his more recent dreams came to his mind--where he was the light, and gravity fell into him. “Not about the weightlessness, about the balance. Being so perfectly balanced you can use the wind like solid ground. The moment I balance incorrectly-- and I always do--I fall. But it’s peaceful.” Luke turned and gazed at him for a moment, and Lando felt the curiosity in his mind, like sunlight seeking the bottom of the sea. He smiled, suddenly embarrassed, ducking his head. “You asked,” he shrugged. There was a beat of silence between them, profound among the clanging and cries of the market.

“How do you do it?” Luke murmured. At Lando’s inquiring glance, he elaborated, “You carry so much on your shoulders that you even  _ dream _ of responsibility.”

“I probably work too hard, that’s all.” There was another pause as they went to a fruit stall, and Luke spoke again.

“I’m not sure you  _ do _ dream about flight, Lando.”

“Oh?” Lando continued picking out fruit, placing several into a bag.

“I wonder, instead, if you dream about gravity.” Lando paused in packing the fruit, turning his whole body to face Luke. It was enough of a question for Luke to continue. “Gravity is the great balance point of the universe. Gravity can affect even the Force itself. In some cases, gravity  _ is _ the Force itself.”

“And what does that have to do with my dream?”

“When I fell from the Cloud City spires, the only thing I could trust in was gravity,” Luke said. “I could’ve been brushed too far to one side, or been too heavy, too fast, and fallen right out of your arms. But gravity lead me to you. Gravity let me fall, and the Force caught me.”

“ _ I _ caught you.”

“And yet the bond formed spontaneously, instantaneously,” Luke said, with a strange undercurrent of urgency. “We both overbalanced ourselves, Lando, you in trying to lead, me in trying to save. And yet, when we fell, both of us, from that precarious balance, the Force caught us.”

Lando didn’t know what to say, and finished his purchase at that stall, then the next. Luke walked silently behind him, carrying their food and water, waiting for Lando to gather his thoughts. The heartbeat of their conversation thudded quietly in the din of the marketplace.

“I did catch you,” he said finally, while they loading up the speeder. “Gravity only ensured that you would fall. But the Force, the bond--that ensured I caught you?”

“Isn’t it a little more romantic that way?” Luke murmured. Lando ducked his head, smiled, and said nothing at all, half-convinced, while the speeder rushed above the sand, that the heat of near-midday was making him hear things.

Upon arrival at the homestead, Lando left Luke to put away the produce while he typed out a few quick lines to Mon Mothma, inquiring about the possibility of sending a Jedi representative to their location. By nightfall, he received a single line in reply:

_ Fulcrum is on their way. _

~

The Alliance agent known as Fulcrum arrived on the tail end of a sandstorm, one of the many that often swept Tatooine. It probably wasn’t planned, but it made for excellent cover anyway. Fulcrum’s ship was nigh-invisible to any Imperials as it touched down in a hidden rocky outcrop a little ways from the old Kenobi homestead. The agent appeared as the hatch opened with no visible features, covering up their mouth and nose to keep out the worst of the sand. Still, Lando thought he caught a glimpse of white facial markings and a high hood, so if he had to guess, he’d say that Fulcrum was Togruta. They weren’t a common species to see wandering about the galaxy, these days. The Empire preferred its Core folk, for some speciesist reason or other, and those who didn't fit the bill weren’t often seen outside their homeworlds.

“We need to get inside,” Fulcrum said in a high-pitched voice. Possibly female, but then again Lando had no experience in how Togruta designated gender. Maybe they didn’t even have women, who knew? (He was pretty sure they had women. But it never paid to assume.)

“This way,” Luke said, snapping Lando out of his head. The three of them huddled together against the wind and stinging sand and quickly made their way into the house. Lando blindly grabbed for the clean cloth he’d preemptively hung by the entrance to get the damn sand out of his eyes. He really needed to invest in a good pair of goggles, even if they cramped his aesthetic. The sourness in the thought made Luke chuckle quietly, teeth flashing in the dark after the sandstorm. 

Fulcrum took off their cloak with grace, shaking out the folds before hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door. Lando had been right, they were Togruta, adult, and when they turned around their white facial markings stood out in the gloom. Intelligent eyes took in the surroundings quickly, just barely flicking over Lando’s face as Luke set about the room, turning on lights and setting out some meagre refreshments. Still, there was something unexpectedly reverent in the Togruta’s eyes, almost drinking in every sight.

“So this is where Obi-Wan spent his last years,” they said, exhaling, with no tremble to indicate emotion, but Lando almost  _ felt _ it, nevertheless. 

“You knew him?” Luke asked, turning around, trying and failing to mask his eagerness. To their surprise, Fulcrum took a step back upon beholding Luke’s face, shocked.

“By the Force,” they whispered, reaching out to the wall as though they would fall without support. Luke, ever compassionate, rushed forward to help them. Lando grabbed a chair and set it down while Luke helped guide them into it.

“Are you alright?” he asked anxiously. To Luke and Lando’s surprise, Fulcrum smiled, tears in their eyes, and reached out to cup Luke’s face. Luke, wonderful being that he was, did not flinch but merely stared in wide-eyed curiosity. 

“You look so much like him,” Fulcrum whispered. “Your father. And the shape of your eyes...those are hers, even if the color is all his. I never knew. I never  _ knew _ . I wish he’d told me.”

“You knew my father?” Luke asked.

“I knew them all,” Fulcrum said in that same amazed tone, then something snapped them out of it. “Ahsoka Tano,” she said, drawing her hand back to look at them both. “My name is Ahsoka Tano.” Lando knew that name. She had been one of the heroes of the Clone Wars--the Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. He’d grown up, a child living in the midst of a war that hardly reached him outside of news and the deepening lines on his mother’s face, on stories of the great heroes on the front lines. 

Anakin Skywalker had died in the Jedi Purges, Obi-Wan Kenobi on the first Death Star. And yet, their legacy remained--two legacies, staring at one another, wide-eyed, in recognition, old eyes in new faces and tales of people who had been loved. 

_ Three _ , something in the back of his mind whispered. Lando blinked, and dismissed it. Luke, meanwhile, held out his right hand, the prosthetic, for Ahsoka.

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” he said warmly. “And this is Lando, Lando Calrissian.”

“Well met, Luke. Lando,” Ahsoka said, taking Luke’s hand, and nodded at Lando. There was a sudden silence, jittery, charged--what now?

“Business can wait until tomorrow, I think,” Lando interjected softly, causing them both to look at him, startled. A surge of fondness made its way to him from Luke’s mind, unexpectedly happy. Lando just smiled and glanced out the window. Stars were finally beginning to peek through the dust in the air. Whatever Tatooine’s other faults, its night sky was one of the most spectacular in the galaxy. “It’s a good night for stories.” 

Ahsoka and Luke made their way to the softer couches, talking quietly but quickly, and Lando followed. He removed the same chair Ahsoka had been sitting in to the living area and sat down in it, slightly off to the side, contentedly observing the way Luke’s whole being was alight with his smile. 

“You know your father was Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka began, trying to get a gauge on how much Luke knew.

“Yes. Ben told me that much.”

“Ben?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Of course.” Ahsoka settled back, contemplating, no doubt, how to go about talking about Luke’s father. “I met Anakin Skywalker when I was fourteen, assigned to be his Padawan learner--his student--by the Jedi Council. This was...unusual.”

“Why?” Luke asked. Thoughts sped across the mindscape rapidly, taking in all the new information. 

“The Clone Wars made everything unusual,” Ashoka said, musing. “The specifics are a story for another time. But your father was reluctant to take me on. I was reckless and stubborn.” She smiled, suddenly. “So was he.”

Ahsoka spoke of young Ben, and of Anakin, the clone troopers they had commanded, those who had died and those who had lived. She spoke of Anakin’s protectiveness and single-mindedness, of his bravery, his devotion, and his strong sense of justice. Eventually, Luke asked tentatively about the old Jedi Order, so Lando got to hear firsthand what growing up among the Jedi was like--the creche clans, the lightsaber lessons, the visits from Master Yoda. Luke seemed surprised at the idea that Yoda was a social creature who snuck away from Council towers as much as possible to spend time with the young initiates of the Order. A sadness, muted and not for himself, drifted across the sea between their minds. Lando looked to Luke in concern, but he merely shook his head and looked away.

Early the next morning, when Luke had already risen and was outside, working on kata, Lando spoke to Ahsoka. 

“Unusual how?” he said. She knew what he meant, crossing her arms and sighing.

“Normally, the cutoff for Padawan age was twelve. I'm Togruta, and for us the cutoff age was thirteen. The thing was, the Jedi couldn’t afford to lose many of their children to any of the various Corps, both for publicity reasons and because of the general turnover rate. The war needed both soldiers and identifiable faces for the Republic at large. The age limit was extended by two years, especially for those with promising lightsaber skills. Only a few weeks after I turned fourteen, I was assigned to Anakin, who was helping command one of the fronts. Most Masters chose their Padawans, and moreover, most Master-Padawan pairs had more than a five-year age gap between them--but, the Jedi Council was desperate.”

“But sending children into a war zone?” Lando interrupted, throat thick with revulsion. He had been seven years old, half her age, when this woman had been sent into the heart of war. Ahsoka looked at him with haunted eyes. An old anger burned there, tempered by time and the deep anguish it hid. Her gaze told him that she had asked herself the same question in the years since the wars.

“We were all children, all of us,” she said, almost growling. “The clone soldiers looked like adults, but they were the same age as me, or younger. Anakin was only nineteen when the war broke out. It was a war fought by children, built and bred and kept for war, and commanded by people who had never seen war on this scale in their lifetimes.”

“The clones…?” Lando whispered, horrified. 

“Accelerated aging,” Ashoka spit out. “Most of them have died from subsequent complications.” A silence descended while Ahsoka tried to calm herself and Lando tried to think of what to say. 

“Luke is not a child,” he ventured. Ahsoka’s eyes snapped to his.

“No,” she agreed. “But he was forced into this, the same as the rest of us.”

She went outside to give Luke tips on his kata. Lando stared at the steam coming off his tea, and brooded. Ahsoka, meanwhile, after walking a short distance from the house, crossed her arms and watched Luke’s weaponless kata with a critical eye.

“Get it slow and get it right. Just don’t stop,” she advised. “Speed will come in time. Back leg straight, front slightly bent for this form. It lowers your center of gravity. All the movement should come from your hips, not your arms.” Luke didn’t reply or even glance at her, but his concentration sharpened in focus as he slowed but did not pause. His Force-presence was a warm flare lit up against the first of Tatooine’s sunrises. “You look so much like him,” she whispered, and didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until Luke finished the kata and looked at her expectantly. Ahsoka, who hadn’t been afraid since she was seventeen years old and the 501st turned on her with murder in their eyes, straightened and elaborated on the statement with a frown. “Not sure where the hair came from, though. Anakin’s hair wasn’t quite so thick or straight, and it wasn’t so light. Your mother, she had those thick brown curls. Maybe that’s where the texture comes from. Perhaps your grandparents on your mother’s side, though I never met them.”

“You  _ did _ know my mother,” Luke breathed. At Ahsoka’s glance, he cleared his throat and smiled sadly. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

“I’m very surprised Obi-Wan didn’t mention her to you,” Ahsoka said, frown deepening. “He loved her as much as the rest of us.” Undoubtedly, he had loved her more than Anakin had realized. Obi-Wan Kenobi had loved so deeply and so fully. Anakin had never understood that, because Obi-Wan so rarely showed it. It was a flaw of his, or at least, it had been to Anakin, who had worn his heart on his sleeve proudly from the day he was born. Ahsoka shook her head to clear it. “Come with me.”

They went back into the house, passing Lando. Ahsoka sensed the question from Lando, as well as Luke’s reassurance, as they went to a different part of the house. They would have to work on those shields, she thought wryly, and felt a pang of nostalgia for the many types of mental bonds she herself had once had. Only one, she knew, had ever been something like theirs--but Barriss Offee had died long ago. Turning into the room she was using as her quarters, she grabbed her padd and gestured for Luke to sit down.

“Your mother’s name was Padmé Amidala,” she began. Luke reverently mouthed the syllables, committing them to memory. His attention was caught a moment later when a picture was pulled up on Ahsoka’s padd, kept under several layers of encryption, with multiple backups. “This was her,” she said softly. Luke hesitantly reached for the padd, hands trembling, eyes wide. Lando leaned on the doorway, curious.

“Tell me about her,” Luke whispered as he drank in the sight of a woman, resplendent in green, a hood framing her face and her hair loose in its naturally curly state.

“Her given name was actually Padmé Naberrie,” Ahsoka explained. “Amidala was her political name. She was elected Queen of Naboo when she was fourteen in a landslide election, and served two terms as a beloved ruler. Some of her people even tried to amend the constitution to elect her again, but she refused them. She met your father and Obi-Wan fairly early in her rule, as I understand, though they did not meet again until she was the Senator for Naboo and Anakin was nearly ready to take his Trials.” Ahsoka gazed at the holo fondly. “I almost never saw her dressed like that. So casual. She was very fond of wearing Nabooian court attire in the Senate.”

“My mother spoke of her often,” Lando added. “She was one of the leaders of the Loyalist Committee, wasn’t she? And nearly single-handedly spearheaded the Delegation of 2,000?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Ahsoka confirmed. She looked a little troubled. “Padmé said to me once that the reason why she pushed so hard with the Delegation--the petition to remove the Chancellor from power,” she explained to Luke, who was beginning to look lost--“was because she was the one who got Palpatine elected as Chancellor in the first place, if inadvertently, since she called for a Vote of No Confidence in Chancellor Valorum. I think she felt really guilty and angry at herself, even though she couldn’t have known he’d hold onto emergency powers for so long, let alone take over the Republic.”

“But what was she  _ like _ ?” Luke asked, almost shyly. That brought a wry smile to Ahsoka’s face.

“My apologies,” she said. “Habit, I guess. Padmé was…” Ahsoka stopped, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders. “Padmé was fearless, and brilliant, and incredibly handy with a blaster,” she said with a small laugh. “She was compassionate, and unafraid of any kind of confrontation. Anakin used to say that her specialty was not just seeing, but calling out things the way they were. And she and Obi-Wan were nearly unstoppable when they put their minds together on something.” Ahsoka gazed at Luke and smiled. It was only a little sad. “You look so much like him, but your personality is all Padmé, Luke,” she said, completely sincerely. 

“How did you know her?” Luke asked. Unexpectedly, Ahsoka laughed.

“They were secretly married maybe six months or so before I met them. Marriage wasn't allowed in the Jedi Order, and Padmé would have lost her good standing in the press, so it was kept secret. It became a little obvious to me, since whenever we were on leave to Coruscant, my master would sneak off to her apartments, and we spent a lot of time together. Eventually they told me, but I had already figured it out by then.” She grew thoughtful. “I think the whole 501st knew by the end, to be honest. Anakin was not subtle. Obi-Wan at least suspected something, but never said anything.” Her eyes grew a little dark, a little sad. Luke, ever compassionate, quickly changed the subject. 

“So, I lost my lightsaber,” he said with a self-deprecating grin. “It was my father’s, but…” 

“It’s all right, honestly, Anakin was always careless with them,” Ahsoka immediately dismissed. There was an odd tension with both of them, though, that Lando couldn't quite put his finger on--their eyes a little too wide, their laughter a little too tense at those last two statements. Ahsoka continued, “You already know that the primary places of crystal acquisition are either heavily guarded or otherwise destroyed,” glancing at them until they nodded affirmation. She sipped at her tea carefully, savoring. “Ilum was the traditional place for the Gathering, but Imperial mining has destroyed a vast majority of the planet’s surface. I got my current lightsaber crystals from a Guardian on Jedha, but I’ve been informed that he’s dead, along with the rest of the Rogue One team.”

“You met the people in Rogue One?” Lando asked, eyebrow raised.

“Just two of them, the ones who were Guardians. Chirrut and Baze, I think their names were.” There was a moment of respectful silence before they continued. “The Holy City on Jedha was destroyed, and the last Guardians along with it,” Ahsoka said. She closed her eyes, falling into a light meditation to seek out the eddies and patterns in the Force. “There’s the secret Jedi temple on Lothal, of course, but I sense that is not your path. It takes you too close to some of our others, and to have too many of us in one place is dangerous, to say the least. One day.” She opened her eyes, frowning slightly. “I sense that your path is to Jedha, Luke. With the Temple destroyed, I’m not sure why, but if the Force wills it to be so, then it must be.”

Luke frowned. “What we’re doing here is important, too,” he said. “I can’t just leave it.”

“Luke, let’s be honest, a simple rescue isn’t going to be possible,” Lando frowned unhappily. “I was going to tell you later, but...I got a deal, with one of the moisture farmers,” he confessed. “I can go in the palace, scope out a map, be a familiar face. It’s a maze in there. There’s no way we’ll be able to get Han out unless one of us infiltrates the system. While I take the time to do that, there’s your opportunity.” Luke looked agitated, but he nodded.

“I don’t like it,” he said. “But it does seem like the only way.”

“We don’t have to head out right away,” Ahsoka reminded them. “Let’s take a few days and prepare.”

They did, but the day still came where they climbed on a ship and didn’t know when they would be back. Lando watched them depart with a heavy heart. He turned back toward the empty house and sighed. There was work to be done.


	4. Chapter 4

They made it to Jedha after a few days of travel. Jedha was an out-of-the-way planet, a curiosity on a winding hyperspace route to nowhere, superseded by shinier planets and more efficient lanes. But the moment Luke stepped on the soil,  he was struck by an immediate familiarity--not with the desert, for the desert of Jedha was very different from Tatooine, but with the air itself. It reminded him of Dagobah. Missing was the swamp, humidity, and any other outward trappings of similarity, but Luke knew that this place, like Dagobah, teemed with  _ life _ \--inexplicable, unmistakable. The Force flowed here as it flowed through the vines and trees, through the water and air of Dagobah. Through the very drifting sand, the Force was present.

Ahsoka felt it, too, he saw, as she stepped out of the ship and breathed in deeply. 

“We should mingle,” she said. “I sense there is something--or someone--waiting for us.” Luke nodded, finished locking up the ship, grabbed his pack, and off they went.

The Outskirts was a tent city, of people who survived, or people looking for bodies to bury, or people who wanted to be as close to the ruin as possible, because they could not conceive of being anywhere else. This was the only place in the universe worth being. Accommodations of any kind were scarce, and there was much disease among the believers. It reminded Ahsoka very strongly of the many refugee camps she had seen throughout the war. Children still played, but adults mostly just clung to life however they could.

They did not have to wander long, through the smells of spice and the drifting feelings of despair, for their feet to turn, almost simultaneously, toward the ruins themselves. Making their way through a landscape where the very earth had been torn apart, Luke thought almost entirely of Leia. 

When they had been walking in silence for a klick, they found a woman waiting for them. She was Twi’lek, blue-skinned and thin, perhaps a little younger than Ahsoka, and wore the robes and colors of a Guardian. A lightbow, perhaps one of the last of its kind, as Ahsoka’s lightsabers were some of the last, was strapped to her back.

“Welcome, Jedi,” she greeted. “I have been waiting for you.”

“Can you help us?” Luke asked. The sun made the air shimmer behind her in mirages, getting toward midday. At the very least, she could help them get out of the sun.

She nodded. “Yes. I am Chayima. The Force gifted me with a vision of the help you need. Follow me.” Without further ado, she turned and walked, stopping at what appeared to be a set of stairs, cleverly hidden by boulders and rubble.

“Is this...the entrance to the underground part of the Temple?” Ahsoka whispered. 

“We’re still east of the city center,” Chayima explained. “This is what remains of one of the satellite temples. There is a path.” She began descending. Luke and Ahsoka quickly followed. 

“How did this survive? How have the tunnels remained intact?” Luke wondered, observing a path that stretched out into the darkness.

“The Force was with us,” Chayima answered.

“You  _ are _ a Guardian, yes?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes,” Chayima said as she began leading them. The path was sparsely lit by dim lights built into the rock.  

“I thought the Guardians were destroyed with the Holy City,” Luke asked in confusion. The woman shook her head with a small, bitter smile. 

“The history of the Guardians has never been widespread information, particularly in the wake of the Church of the Force, when all focus has been on the history of the Jedi.”

“Are you saying the Guardians weren’t affected by the Purge?” Ahsoka asked, eyes wide as she ducked under a low overhang.

“They were, probably more than the rest of our Order,” Chayima said, weaving along the invisible path with obvious familiarity. “But the Guardians of the Whills were merely the protectors of the Temple of Kyber. The Order of the Whills itself was far more expansive than even the Jedi knew. Long ago,” she began, “the Jedi Order and the Order of the Whills were one and the same. It was the prophecy that split them.”

“Prophecy?” Luke asked while Ahsoka angrily muttered, “That load of bantha shite.”

“The Prophecy of the Chosen One, of which your father was widely believed to be the subject, young Jedi,” Chayima explained. “The Order of the Whills and the Jedi fell out over the interpretation of it. The Jedi believed in a singular savior. Those of the Whills, on the other hand, believed the Jedi interpretation of the prophecy was far too simplistic. There are approximately seventeen different interpretations stored in the Whill archives which are commonly accepted as possible. Many more are often still the subject of lively debate.”

“What are the other differences between the Whills and the Jedi?” Luke asked. Chayima glanced back at him with something like approval. 

“Primarily, the ban on attachment, and the definition of attachment, as well as our relationship with the Force itself,” she said. 

“What do you mean?” Ahsoka asked with an undercurrent of urgency. Luke glanced back at her, concerned, but she merely shook her head without looking at him, eyes glued to Chayima as they made their way through the winding caverns. 

“The Jedi served without attachment, but were nevertheless required to be compassionate,” the Twi’lek woman said. “Yet in the Whills, attachment is differentiated from obsession. We believe that one must be of the world to help it. Our members are encouraged to marry, and have children, to continue on our tradition. Moreover, aside from the Temple, which was a sacred place merely for what it housed, the Order of the Whills is scattered throughout the galaxy, among ordinary citizens. Many are not Force-sensitive at all. It is very different from the old Jedi Order.”

“Very different,” Ahsoka echoed, sounding shocked. 

“And your relationship with the Force? How is that different?” Luke interjected, eager to keep the conversation going.

“All is as the Force wills it, and yet the Force cannot actually command us to do anything. We cannot claim to be the sole arbiters or interpreters of the Force, even amongst ourselves and our own teachings. Ours is not the only way. Some people choose not to accept Force visions, when they have them, or otherwise argue interpretation until they find one they like. The principle behind this is that blind faith, or assumption without critical thinking, should never be encouraged. These are just some of the ways in which it is different.” She broke off her talk as all of them sensed a sudden shift in the air. The hair on Luke’s arms stood up, and Ahsoka’s lekku shuddered, and even Chayima seemed affected. “It’s just a little further,” she said, perhaps unnecessarily. From there, they continued in silence, drawn toward the gathering of the Force. After nearly half a klick more, they became aware of something a little more physical--dampness in the air. Particularly for Luke, a creature of the desert, the sudden smell of moisture, coupled with the heightening mental pressure of the Force, was an incredibly visceral experience. Awe filled him, and only continued to grow when they rounded a corner and--

Crystals. Lightsaber crystals, sweet and wise in these cavern depths, shaped by a thousand things, singing of ancient drum sands and pure, unadulterated, defiant  _ life _ . They stretched back into the cavern, glowing in communicative waves, like an ocean rippling, but here the gravity itself the crystals responded to was the Force and nothing else. A flash of Lando’s face came to him at the thought of the ocean, but Luke quickly tucked it away. There would be time to tell him later. 

“The colors here are not so brilliant, generally, as in Ilum crystals,” Chayima said softly. “Nor was this our largest deposit. But with the presence of the whills, the Order lives on.”

“The crystals are the whills,” Ahsoka breathed in realization.

“Yes,” Chayima smiled. She turned to Luke. “It would be our honor, young Jedi, to preserve your traditions. Perhaps this will become a Gathering place for many generations to follow you.” She stepped forward, taking his hands in her own. “The Force of others is with you, young one. You have the courage of your friends to see you through.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. As he stared out into the cave, knowing it was only a short walk into the eddies of the Force below, his failure on Dagobah came to him. An old flash of shame came with it, but he recalled his Master’s words-- _ only what you take with you _ . Luke sighed, willed his shame to exit him as he breathed, and methodically stripped his utility belt and cloak off. He could feel Ahsoka’s approving gaze, which did much to dispel his anxieties. 

Staring into the cave with only the clothes on his back, he felt, spiritually, very light. He held his head high, and his gaze was steady. Luke breathed in, and out, a simple meditation. And he began descending. Chayima and Ahsoka said nothing more until he was out of sight, beckoned by the currents of the Force.

“Shall we meditate?” Ahsoka asked. 

“An excellent idea,” Chayima agreed. The two women settled themselves on the stone floor, smooth from the feet of many pilgrimages, and waited.

~

For a long while, Luke walked in silence, listening intently to the humming of the whills, letting their chimes and waves direct him. He was so calm, here, in this place of trial, so much calmer than he had been on Dagobah--so eager to prove himself, thinking only of himself and those he loved. Where before, he had only been aware of his own harsh breathing, the weapons on his belt, his desperation to pass the test, now he was calm, seeking out the hard things he would surely have to face.

He had wanted adventure, excitement, glory, to defeat evil and save his friends--all without responsibility, all without consequences. A flash of shame came to him and he thought of Lando--brave, endlessly pragmatic, dependable Lando, who never shirked responsibility, who would carry the weight of the whole galaxy on his shoulders if he thought he could. Lando, who should have hated him, destroying what he worked so hard for over simple things like pride and arrogance. Lando, who had faith in people working together, despite everything he had ever been through.

Faith. Not something to give blindly, as Chayima had cautioned, but Luke had seen true wonders now--Master Yoda lifting his X-Wing out of the swamp with nothing but a focused mind and belief, Ben Kenobi, his voice stretching across death itself to give him guidance, a bond, awash with luminescence, adjusting its tide to the whills around him. 

“That's one way in which you are very like your father, dear one.” Luke turned his head to see his mother, clad in a simple black dress, hair unbound. She stood shimmering blue in the darkness, standing amongst crystals that seemed to breath easier with her presence. “You love many people, but don't trust in them easily. Have faith in your friends, Luke.”

“Mother,” he breathed, throat closing up and tears threatening in his eyes. “ _ Mother _ .”

“There now,” she said gently. “You have work to do, don't you?”

“Yes,” he said, not without some tears. “There's so much I want to ask you, so much I want to say, I--”

“Would that we had time,” Padmé said, more than a little wistfully, “but there is never enough time in war. I can give you my courage to see you through. Having strength doesn't mean you have to do everything on your own.” Her own eyes filled with ghostly tears. “I’m so proud of you, Luke.” Luke ducked his head and swallowed, closing his eyes.

“I can’t be proud of some of the things I’ve done,” he said. “Displacing the people of Cloud City--all from my own arrogance.”

“Yes, you were arrogant,” his mother agreed softly. “But at least you had good intentions. Those go a long way. Keep loving fiercely and selflessly, my son. Just keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” he swore, quick as thought. Of  _ course _ he would. 

“It is a weakness of ours,” Padmé cautioned. “To love, and let that love blind us to danger, from those we love or those who would threaten us.” Luke was silent for a moment, absorbing, and a pressing question came to him, though it would be painful for them both.

“Mother...did you know?” Luke asked hesitantly. “About Father? That he would Fall?” A shadow of guilt, filled with anger and grief so great it made Luke stagger back, crossed Padmé’s face.

“I should have,” she whispered. “I should have.”

“Is there good in him? Was there ever good in him?”

“Yes,” Padmé said immediately, fiercely, glowing brighter for a moment in her passion. “Anakin Skywalker was one of the most compassionate people I ever knew.”

“How did he Fall?”

“Simple. Palpatine made Anakin think that I was going to die. Of course, Palpatine knew your father since he was very young--he had a long time to groom him.”

“Did you love him?” Luke whispered.

“Very much. So much that a Force bond formed between us, despite my not being quite Force-sensitive enough for the Temple.”

“What did it feel like?” Padmé smiled knowingly.

“Fulfilled.” His mother’s image faded a little, and she seemed a little sad. “Tell Ahsoka that I miss her. Tell her I said I should have looked for her, even if she didn’t want to be found. As for you, my brilliant boy--” she smiled, bright, and for a moment Luke saw his own dimples in her face--“love fearlessly, as endlessly as the sea, but allow yourself to trust those you love. Leia, Han, Lando--they are all capable. You do well to keep them close.”

“Will you stay with me?” Luke asked, desperately, a child’s prayer.

“I have never left,” Padmé responded, a mother’s promise. And for just a moment, as she slowly faded, he thought he saw his aunt Beru, face unlined and smiling.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to sob, trying to find his center, and when he opened them again, the visages of his mother and aunt were gone. He allowed himself a moment to breathe, and then relaxed his shoulders.

_ Only what you take with you _ . If his mother and all those he loved were with him, there was no chance of failure.

Luke squared his shoulders, and kept walking. He walked until he found a riptide in the Force, a voice louder than the others, a helpless calling-- _ here I am _ . When he arrived, twisting and turning, at the shore of the current, waiting, chiming in three-toned harmony, were his crystals. 

They were green, as vibrant and as bright as the forests of Yavin in summer, but these crystals did not speak of Yavin. Trembling, he reached out a hand, knowing he would receive a vision, and--

_ Darth Vader’s harsh breathing and a forest moon the color of a lightsaber fight, cruel laughter and Lando in the Falcon, a trap a trap a trap-- _

Luke took the crystals without flinching. They murmured, content now, in his hand.

“I hate to tell you, since you came all this way, but you probably shouldn't take those.” Luke whirled to find Lando standing behind him. The distance of the bond in his mind reassured him this was not real, yet so lifelike did the vision appear. But he had never seen such an expression on Lando’s face--simpering, oily, a facsimile of care, like a conniving politician. His voice was soft, slick, persuasive, and it made Luke’s skin crawl. “Look what happened the last time you held a lightsaber. My home, the home of thousands, taken, and Han with them. Do you really think that you can make a difference all by yourself? Face it, kid, you're outmatched. One partially trained Jedi against an Empire? What good would that do? Who would that help?”

“I’m trying to save the people I love,” Luke whispered. He felt, in some horrible way, like he was begging permission. If Lando didn’t think he could make a difference, then what was the point?

“Luke, you could barely save yourself. Six months of training, some idealism, and luck do not a Jedi make. This is nothing but ego, pure and simple.”

The terrible thing was that Luke could see it, how all of these cruel words were true and not true. They were no more than what he had thought himself at different times. But this was not a vision of himself, speaking. This was Lando, a vision of a man who was painfully kind, effortlessly elegant, and never, never cruel.

“You take those, you might end up just like your father. I'm a gambler, Luke, and even I wouldn't take those odds.”

Lando, the real Lando, didn't even know who his father was.

“For the safety of the galaxy, Luke, I'm begging you, put those back.”

“If I give these to you, Lando,” he said, quietly, “Would that satisfy you?” The vision of Lando looked surprised, said nothing. Luke continued, “If you truly thought what was best for me, for the galaxy, was to put these crystals down and never look back, I would do it in a heartbeat,” he murmured, almost tender. “I trust you, Lando. Do you trust me?”

It did not escape Luke’s understanding that he was really asking an entirely different question altogether.

The vision of Lando nodded,  shimmered and disappeared, looking peaceful and content. The crystals and the bond lit up in tandem for a shining moment in the dark, and then urged him to keep moving. 

Luke made his way out of the Trial, finally, perhaps, a Jedi Knight.

And in the depths of evil, Lando, exhausted from shift and laying down to rest, opened his eyes wide, and saw nothing but light in infinity.

When Luke emerged from the crystalline darkness, he felt as if he stood on the edge of an ocean. The crystals sang their tide around his feet, and there was peace in his heart. Chayima, rising gracefully from her meditation position, beamed.

“Congratulations, young Jedi,” she said warmly. “You have done us all proud.” Luke, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, could only bow to her in thanks. A hand touched his elbow, and Luke came up to find Ahsoka, steadying him with gentle serenity. Her eyes glowed bright in the dark, accented by the light of the crystals. Her next words held great weight.

“Green, the traditional color of the Jedi Consulars,” she said, turning his palm over to gaze at his crystals. “The color of peace, and diplomacy, and the life of the Force.” She closed his hand again, covering it with her own. “They suit you well. May they always be a symbol of light in your hand.”

“Thank you,” Luke whispered, bowing again. 

Chayima led them out, and offered them shelter for at least a little while, but all three of them knew they could not stay. Luke’s blazing presence in the Force, which had flared so brightly when he acquired his crystals, would only endanger the already vulnerable people here if he stayed, and the window to ensure no Imperial presence would come here in response was getting smaller. There had been a strange tension between Chayima and Ahsoka as they had departed from the ruins--Chayima, expectant, Ahsoka, reluctant. Before Luke could ask what it was about, Chayima turned to them and spoke.

“I do have one favor to ask,” she said.

“Name it,” Luke said instantly. 

“There is a family of five here. Humans, all. A young mother, her twin girls, and her two husbands. They were born merely a week ago, prematurely, and they will not survive much longer if they do not leave. Many are diseased, and many deserve help, but those children are Force-sensitive. Imperial forces have already come once, looking for Force-sensitive individuals, thinking they will flock here to tend the wounded or search for kyber, as you have. These children will be killed if they stay.”

“I understand,” Luke murmured, glancing at Ahsoka. She nodded decisively. 

“I only wish we could do more,” she said unhappily. “But I can escort them to someplace safe, and help block their Force signatures.”

“That’s all I could ask for,” Chayima said, gratefulness showing on her face. 

“You are not a null, yourself,” Ahsoka pointed out, concerned. “It’s not safe for you, either.” Chayima shook her head. 

“I have chosen my path,” she said. Serenity and certainty shone in her face, even as dust flew into her eyes. “My place is here. But these babies know nothing of choosing, not yet.” 

“Bring them here,” Ahsoka said. There was a terrible knowledge in her eyes, a nameless bleeding of emotion shuddering into the air. But like a mirage, it vanished when Luke tried to make it out. 

“Joran!” Chayima called somewhere behind her. A short, dark man emerged from a makeshift tent with a guarded expression on his face. Chayima softened her voice, soothing. “These people will take your family to a safer place,” she said calmly, not pointing out how the man’s eyes filled with tears. “You must think of your children, Joran. They are daughters of Jedha, yes, but you must keep them safe.” He shook his head, sorrowful.

“I always thought they’d be Temple Guardians,” he said, looking Chayima in the face. His voice trembled and he swallowed audibly. “Always thought maybe you or Chirrut would teach them one day.”

“And perhaps I will,” Chayima said, terribly gently, placing her hand on his arm. “The future is always in motion.” Ahsoka ducked her head at the familiar phrase, biting her lip and then striding inside the ship to start pre-flight checks. “But if they stay here, Joran, they will not make it. This man,” she said, gesturing to Luke, “and this woman, they are trustworthy. They will keep you safe.” Joran nodded, staring at the red Jedha ground. 

“Take your time,” Luke said softly. Joran glanced at him, searching for something in his face. Sighing, he turned and went back to the tent to collect his family.

“I wish we had more time,” Luke said regretfully, shouldering his bag and glancing back at the ship. It would be a tight squeeze, but Luke was hard-pressed to find anything but compassion at the sight of a young mother and her two husbands, anxious over their undersized twins, ducking out of the tent and making their way warily toward them. The mother was having some difficulty walking, and one of her husbands had his arm securely around her waist, murmuring encouragement. It must have been a hard birth, with twins and virtually no medical accommodations. The mother went to Chayima with tears in her eyes, thanking her profusely in one of the Jedhan dialects. Luke offered one of the fathers to help carry something, and took one of their few bags up to the ship while they said their goodbyes. Once everyone was onboard and settled, Luke went out one last time. As the ship powered up, causing dust to fly, Chayima shook her head, her lekku swaying.

“Time is too hard to find, these days,” she said, as though they hadn’t been interrupted. “I hope you will bring balance to the Force of others, Knight Skywalker.”

“I will,” Luke promised. He made promises as easy as breathing. Conviction, which some beings searched for all their lives, was never something he lacked. It was, Luke realized suddenly, one of the things he had so fundamentally in common with Lando. “I swear to it. Thank you, for everything.”

“May the Force be with you, young one.” Chayima surprised him with the traditional Jedi farewell, and turned away. Her lightbow, her Guardian’s colors, were as bold a statement as Ben Kenobi’s old Jedi robes and openly-carried lightsaber once were. She held her head high as she walked among the believers, greeting many of them personally, letting curious children touch her colorful robes with wide eyes.

There was still hope left. His crystals chimed at him warmly, that he knew it. Luke Skywalker turned and strode onto the ship, not looking back.

The family of five remained on edge while they were leaving the atmosphere--the mother insisted on staying in the cockpit until she could see they were in hyperspace, while her husbands comforted their crying children in the back. Her eyes were wide with intent, and she murmured prayers under her breath continually until Luke pulled back the lever and the hyperdrive pulled them out. She then sagged in her chair, weeping. Her shaking sobs brought Joran to the cockpit, who quietly escorted her back to their berth. The silence that descended suddenly between Luke and Ahsoka was not entirely peaceful.

“There are so few children left,” Ahsoka said. To Luke’s surprise, she smiled, though it was a tad grim. “But these ones will make it.”

“They will,” Luke agreed. “They are the future.” There was silence for another moment, and Luke found, between the vague distance of the bond and the crystals whispering to him and the crying babies in the back, that he couldn’t bear it. “Master Tano--”

“Please, just Ahsoka. I was never a Knight, let alone a Master. I’m no Jedi.” Luke considered that for a moment, thoughtful.

“Why is that? What happened?” Ahsoka sighed. Luke would never be cruel, she knew, and would never press her for answers she wasn’t willing to give. It was that which allowed her to open up.

“Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the chair the mother had just vacated. “It’s a bit of a long story.” And she told it. Ahsoka spoke of the tensions and distrust in the Jedi Order, the blindness of the Council to the gathering dark side. She spoke of Barriss Offee and her voice trembled ever-so-slightly, but it was enough for Luke to understand completely. She spoke of her Master, of the decision to walk away.

“You have to understand, Luke,” she said, “Anakin very nearly left the Order himself when I did. To this day, I’m not certain what made him stay. It would have been better, I think, if he had left.” An uneasy silence followed her words as Luke absorbed them, trying to reconcile his previous idea of the Jedi Order with what the reality had been during and before the war.

“Am I doing the right thing?” he finally asked, looking up from the floor to Ahsoka’s face. His eyes, so familiar to her from different faces, were wide and imploring her for guidance. “Taking up the mantle of the Jedi, when it was clearly so flawed?” Ahsoka gave the question due consideration before answering.

“Chayima said something to me, before we left,” she began.

“I had wondered why you seemed agitated.”

“Yes, well. She said that even though the Jedi were so wrong about how they did so many things, that they were, and remain, a symbol of hope. And symbols are powerful.” Ahsoka tapped her fingers against her knee, musing. “You don't actually have to take anything from the old Order if you don't want to, Luke. Take none of it, if that’s what seems best to you.” 

“I can practically feel Yoda having an aneurysm from here,” Luke said wryly. Ahsoka looked up, startled, at the name. 

“You trained with him?”

“Yes, on Dagobah. I never...I left before I was finished.” Ahsoka laughed at that. 

“Yoda believes no one is ever done training,” she said, leaning back. “Neither the youngest initiate nor the oldest Master. Let alone someone who had trained for a scant six months.” Luke ducked his head. 

“Did my father know him?” Ahsoka refused to flinch at the question.

“Yoda was Grandmaster of the Order,” she said. “He knew everyone. Anakin was technically his great-great-grand-Padawan, did you know that?”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. You see, Dooku was Yoda’s apprentice, Qui-Gon was apprenticed to Dooku, Obi-Wan was apprenticed to Qui-Gon, and Anakin was apprenticed to Obi-Wan. Ergo, great-great-grand-Padawan.”

“Dooku--Count Dooku? The Separatist leader?”

“Yes. I fought him many times.” Ahsoka grew thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder if it was Yoda’s failure with Dooku which prompted him to be so hard on Anakin.” 

“Hard on him?” Ahsoka sighed.

“Anakin was gifted, and the subject of a prophecy,” she said. “On top of that, he came to the Order at what was then considered an incredibly late age--nine, having grown up as a slave, incredibly attached to his mother, incredibly angry at his treatment. The Order didn't know how to deal with a child who wasn’t a blank slate, never mind one who was the subject of a prophecy.”

“I didn't know that,” Luke whispered. 

“I mean, Obi-Wan put it best. How could you take a child who had nothing but his mother and some scraps of metal and his pride and tell him he couldn't have  _ any _ of it?” Ahsoka got up and stood at the window, hands resting at the small of her back. “If Anakin hadn’t been wrestling so much with the ban on attachment, he might never have Fallen,” Ahsoka whispered, staring out at the rushing black. “I wonder if bringing him into the Whills, instead of the Jedi, would have saved him.” Her eyes were haunted, not really seeing anything but her past.

“Maybe,” Luke said tentatively. His natural compassion won out over his nervousness, and he moved to stand next to Ahsoka. “But maybe knowing he was loved can save him, in the end.”

“Luke, you can’t save him. It’s too late.”

“Maybe it is.” Luke stepped in front of her, taking her hands in his own. Ahsoka looked at him, startled--it was a familial gesture among Togruta, and she wasn’t sure if he knew, but when he followed it up with a brief forehead touch, it was clear he knew the significance of the gesture. “It’s less about saving him than it is about doing the right thing. I have to try. It’s not just for me. It’s for all the people who could be saved when he’s no longer the tool of the Emperor. By saving him and bringing balance back to the Force, we can save and bring balance to the Force of others.” Ahsoka smiled, a little ruefully, a little more proud.

“Integrating Whill and Jedi ideas now, are we?”

“I think it has merit.” A mischievous smile lit up Ahsoka’s eyes as she drew back.

“And Whill principles on attachment--what do you think of those?” True to form, Luke blushed. Ahsoka grinned, and added, “There is a very handsome man waiting for you on Tatooine, I think.” Luke just blushed harder, unable to speak. Ahsoka took pity on him, chuckling, and left the subject alone. Luke would see the object of his burgeoning affections soon enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Ahsoka did not stay long, when they descended again on Tatooine--the needs of the family were just too desperate. The mother, Joyal, needed medical care, as did her babies, and soon. Ahsoka expressed her regret that she was not able to stay longer, and help Luke build his lightsaber.

“Trust the Force,” she said seriously. “You have the mechanical knowledge. Let it fill in the rest. Above all, spend time with your crystal. Your blade is an extension of yourself, and the crystal is the heart of the blade.”

“Yes, Master Tano,” Luke replied, eyebrow quirking. Despite herself, Ahsoka snorted. 

“May the Force be with you, Luke,” she said. “We will meet again. I can feel it.” Luke bowed, and walked a short distance to watch the ship leave.  _ An aunt _ , he thought, as the ship arced back up into the atmosphere.  _ I suppose I have an aunt after all _ . He turned back to the house, and, to his surprise, there, just getting off of a speeder, was Lando.

Lando had managed to convince his superiors to give him a supply retrieval job that would take a week. Of course, he timed it perfectly--Chewie was meant to get the supplies when he picked up Leia, which left Lando a few days to recuperate at the old Kenobi house. Though it felt lazy to him, he couldn’t say he regretted it when he saw Luke, and what was definitely Ahsoka’s ship, leaving. The knowledge slammed into him--a few days, alone, with Luke. It was simultaneously daunting and exhilarating. His eyes sought out any changes in Luke from the past month--he was pale, from spending so much time in hyperspace, his hair slightly longer. Soon it would need to be cut. He found himself caught on that small detail, and any words he was planning on saying died in his throat.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I got what I went for?” Luke asked teasingly. There was a second question under the words there. 

“I know you did,” Lando admitted. Luke looked at him questioningly. “I felt it, I  _ saw _ it. When you found those crystals it lit up my mind half a galaxy away.” Luke grinned that lopsided grin, proud and sheepish at the same time. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you up or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but you did.” Giving into himself, Lando surprised Luke by sweeping him into a hug. When they touched, the bond brightened, content now, breathing evenly. “I’m glad to see you.” Luke breathed and said nothing, but a rare feeling of contentment flowed from his side of the bond to Lando’s.

So much of Luke’s side was still blocked off. It puzzled Lando, even hurt him sometimes when he was feeling most lonely. Luke loved as easily as he breathed, or he wouldn’t have gone to Cloud City the way he did, but trust? That seemed harder to come by for him. It was strange, to Lando, who had learned to trust many people, but truly loved so few. 

Words came to his mouth, impulsively. “It’s nearly dusk. Walk with me?” He could have sworn, for a moment, that Luke blushed.

“Yes,” he answered. “That sounds lovely.” Only pausing to grab their water skins, and hardly knowing what to do with their hands, their feet carried them automatically. They walked in silence on the edge of comfortable until they found themselves nearing Beggar’s Canyon. Tatooine’s binary sunset drifted toward the horizon. Luke’s hair turned to burnished bronze in the light as he gazed out at the sky, mouth slightly parted.

Lando stared at him. How many sunsets had Luke watched, just like this, longing for greater horizons? It was so easy to forget that Luke had grown up here, had never even left the planet until mere days before he climbed in an X-wing and blew up the Death Star. 

“I never thought I'd miss any of Tatooine, once I'd left,” Luke murmured. 

“And now?”

“There’s something to be said for knowing your skies.” Lando took that in, feeling a pang for Bespin as he did so, then sat down at the edge of the canyon. Luke joined him immediately, sitting close. He knew that Luke had grown up watching the Boonta Eve races here, and shooting womp rats on speeders in his spare time. A steady breeze blew with no trees or buildings to block it, and Lando  _ relished _ it. He had spent a thousand evenings on the balconies of Cloud City, letting the swaying of the structures lull him. “Lando?”

“Hmm?” Lando brought himself out of his thoughts and turned to Luke. A curiosity moved through him, slow, melodic.

“Tell me about Bespin.” Lando blinked. “If you want to, that is,” Luke backtracked, giving Lando a way out. “I understand that it might be painful to talk about.”

“No, no,” Lando reassured. “It’s fine. I’d love, to, actually.” He leaned back on the rock, watching the reds fade to purple near the horizon. “Not sure why you’re interested, really.”

“It’s your city. As far as I can tell, it’s the most important thing to you right now besides getting Han back,” Luke explained. He ducked his head, somehow bashful. “Honestly, I just realized I don’t know you as well as I’d like, and that seems like a good place to start.”

“Fair enough.” Lando settled his palms against the ground and leaned back, stretching his legs to dangle over the cliffside. “Cloud City,” he mused. He rubbed the back of his neck, conscious of  having Luke’s full attention. “Not sure where to start, to be honest.” Luke sat back too, chewing his lip as he gazed out into the canyon.

“A favorite place?” he suggested. Lando nodded. The answer, when it arrived, was laughably simple. “The very bottom, and the very top. Any place where I could feel the swaying. The winds of Bespin are strong, and our towers are tall. The wind and the circuitry had a rhythm. I could almost always tell if something was wrong. Hell, if I was paying attention, I could tell when a ship was landing. And up in the towers, or down in the circuitry, you got the best views. The architects before I got there were always trying to create more impressive skylines from everywhere in the city, but I always liked it best when there was nothing in the way.” Lando closed his eyes, basking in the wind from the desert. It was hot, dry, but it was something. He could imagine he was on Cloud City during one of the rare dry spells that passed as a semblance of summer.

“You liked the way the buildings swayed?” Luke asked. His voice was low, unadorned, affectionate.

“Yeah. Makes most people get vertigo, though,” Lando chuckled, glancing over at Luke, who had a plotting look on his face. “What?” Luke got up, and held his hand out.

“I have an idea.”

They went back to the house, but didn’t go inside--Luke immediately grabbed the speederbike Lando had parked not even an hour before. As he swung over it, he quirked an eyebrow at Lando “Coming?”

“I don’t even know where we’re going,” Lando protested, even as he swung over behind Luke. He hesitated for a bare second, then let himself settle forward, pressing into Luke’s back, hands on his waist. Luke was warm, and Lando could feel the vibrations of his chuckling as he started the engine. 

They drove only for a short while, but not toward the town. Luke really was a splendid driver--he wove around rocks other people would have died trying to avoid, leaning his weight into the curves as though the speeder were a part of him. The bond warped and wefted with gravity, tantalizing with Luke’s body under his hands. It would be a real privilege, Lando thought, to be in a ship with him and fly. At last, they seemingly arrived at their destination--the edge of the true desert, the Dune Sea. It was very nearly dark, and likely dangerous for them to be there, but Luke took it all in stride. If Luke wasn’t afraid, Lando wouldn’t be, either. It was getting colder, and they were alone, and Lando was struck with how breathlessly, unbelievably happy he was with it all. “Come on,” Luke said, breaking Lando out of his thoughts. “We’ve got a bit of a climb, uphill and over sand, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Lando teased. For some reason, the comment sobered Luke, and he nodded seriously. 

“I’ll do my best to be worthy of it,” Luke said, and the bond bore down under the weight of that promise. For the second or third time that evening, Lando’s breath caught. The magnitude of it was not lost on him. Luke Skywalker’s promises, Luke’s Skywalker’s love, was worth cities. Was worth walking into traps, even knowing they were traps. Was worth abandoning destinies. Wordlessly, Lando reached out and grasped his shoulder, thrumming thanks across the bond like the purpling dusk. And reflected back, across the glacial things Luke still felt like he couldn’t share, there was light.

They began climbing in silence, but they communicated--a wordless passing of questions, of glances, of chuckles at missed steps. Walking up a desert dune was hard; there was a trick to it, and Lando’s body fought him every step of the way. He kept stumbling, gritting his teeth and wondering how Luke never faltered. Even so, Lando had an inkling of why Luke might have brought him here.

The winds cooled as the suns went down, whipping Lando’s cloak around him in an intensely familiar way. Contrary to what most people believed, he didn’t just wear cloaks for the visual factor--though he maintained that they were the epitome of stylish class--but also for the balance. It helped him know which way the wind was blowing, and that was intensely important when, say, he was giving a tour and some socialite’s hairdo was piled just a  _ little _ too precariously. Between the extra-sensitive soles of his shoes--which let him feel the vibrations through the floor better--and his cloaks, he was attuned to more information than most people ever realized. But beneath his feet now was shifting sand, and his cloak whipped around him as the desert wind changed, cold and proud and endless--and suddenly, Lando understood. 

He listened to his bones, to the feeling of the sand. Everything had its rhythm. Everything had its balance. The moment his body found it, there was an audible  _ click  _ across their sea like a skipping stone, and the waves flattened out. Luke, slightly ahead of him, laughed in delight. Lando danced up the dune, feeling like he was flying. Almost before he’d realized it, they had reached the top. The stars wheeled above him, clearer than anything he’d ever seen, and the desert stretched out below him in just enough light that he could see the horizon. Luke stood with crossed arms, full of wonder, not at the landscape, but at  _ him _ , seeing him so full of joy. Lando grinned so wide it hurt and spread out his arms.

He had his balance back.

Something in the air between them changed, after that. Their bodies pressed together into the curves of gravity as the speederbike took them back. Lando didn’t think all the warmth between them came solely from their bodies, not in this cold desert night. The bond quivered with anticipation of  _ something _ , although Lando was very careful to clamp down on where those thoughts naturally, somewhat confusedly, wanted to go. But when they arrived at the homestead, with one of the moons shining fat and yellow on their backs, Lando washed his emotions up to Luke.

It was like dousing himself in frigid water, when he hit the glaciers. 

Despite the tenderness in the ocean between them, something was still hidden behind those impenetrable icy walls. Something festered. Something terrible.

Luke turned to him, a question in his eyes, and then realized where he had gone, mentally. He ducked his head, and looked ashamed in the low light.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said. “But...not yet. Not tonight.” Fear whispered behind those glacial constructs, and Lando did not understand, but he backed down. He nodded, sighing, and before he could stop himself, leaned down to kiss Luke’s forehead.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For taking me out to the dunes.” Luke’s wide eyes met his and he looked so vulnerable, so unsure. Across their ocean, Lando flared the last of their sunset heartbeat out toward Luke, a comfort, before withdrawing himself, and going to his room. Whatever his feelings, they couldn’t move forward, not until Luke was ready to let those cliffs fall.

~

Leia Organa arrived after a sandstorm cleared curiously early. Even the weather made its way for royalty. Luke gave her a long, warm hug and Chewie stuck close to her side from the moment they arrived, showing no signs of leaving anytime soon. Lando held back. She gave him a reserved nod, which seemed a step up from before, but otherwise made no move to speak to him.

She watched Lando closely as he interacted with Luke and Chewie. Lando did his best to ignore it. Her gaze was heavy when his hands brushed Luke’s, passing him his favored green tea, when their heads bent close in quiet discussion, when Lando argued with Chewie about blueprints and plans. She saw that Luke was happy, as much as he could be, under the circumstances. She saw that Chewie, despite arguing with Lando, ruffled his hair and joked with him. Still, she didn’t try to talk to him. Lando decided to wait.

Sure enough, one day they were both alone in the house, Leia pretending to read some padd or other while she kept stealing glances at him, Lando steadfastly keeping his gaze on his own work, when she finally ventured a question.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she said. Lando glanced up to her. Her nostrils were flared, and her lips were pursed in a thin line, like she was gearing up for a fight. “Han said you conned someone out of Cloud City, but it didn’t seem like it to me. Your people were very loyal, the kind of loyal that can’t be bought.” Lando shut his padd off and turned toward her fully, folding his hands over his knees. 

“I did, actually,” he admitted. “I stopped at Cloud City for a while for repairs. I didn’t have any other jobs lined up, and I noticed the place was being really badly run. It’s one thing to be in unsavory business, but it’s another to have bad business practices. People were discontent, and I needed some credits, so I helped run things for a little while, unofficially. Eventually I challenged the administrator to a very high-stakes game of sabacc--winner take all, as it were. As you might guess, I won. So we got rid of him and I stepped in officially.” Lando leaned back in his seat, remembering. “Before I knew it, I was less invested because of the money and more because I just loved it.” Leia nodded and glanced away for a long moment. Lando was just about to reach for his padd when she broke the silence again. 

“I was so angry at you,” she finally said, pursing her lips into a thin line. “But after we escaped, I kept thinking that if I hadn’t let myself be so angry, if i had just accepted your help, we might have been in time to get Han off the east platform. We missed him by just a moment.” Her hands balled into fists at her side. “If I had learned control in time, we might have saved him then.” Her words echoed Luke’s so clearly it made Lando ache.

“No,” he said quietly, and Leia’s eyes snapped to his, startled, as though she had forgotten he was there. “Well, yes, if Chewie wasn’t choking me, we would’ve made it to the platform faster,” he amended, and Leia’s eyes flashed with anger. “But there’s no guarantee we would have saved him. Maybe we all would’ve been killed, and there would’ve been no one to rescue Luke, or save Han now. Maybe we would’ve saved him, and Luke might have died instead, because we left too soon. Maybe everybody would’ve been saved, or no one, but we have no way of knowing. All we know is what we can do right now. And what we’re going to do now is save Han.” Leia was quiet for a moment, searching his face. Lando stood still, letting her find what she was looking for.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” she said. Lando lifted his eyebrows in inquiry. “You just put aside all the what-ifs and the anger and the fear, and you do what you need to.”

“I still get afraid. I still get angry.”

“I’ve really misjudged you,” Leia said. She did not make it a question.

“We didn’t exactly meet under fortuitous circumstances,” he said gently. She hadn’t outright apologized, but the whole conversation was an apology, and Lando would be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to start afresh with this extraordinary woman. “You didn’t know I had a plan in motion. I don’t blame you for distrusting me,” he added. “You have more to be angry about than anyone I know.” The last princess of Alderaan had lost everything--her father, her planet, and nearly, two of the only people left in the galaxy she truly cared for. One, who loved her dearly and whom she loved back, was still at terrible risk. Leia held Lando’s gaze for a moment, finding no pity, only sincere sympathy, even empathy. Before she crumbled, she walked away to her guest room. Lando let her go. His heart, inexplicably, felt a little lighter.

They made plans, and contingencies for plans, and contingencies for contingencies. The protocol droid Leia had brought was so talkative that Chewie growled and shut him down mid-sentence several times. Luke always treated him with fond kindness, however--far more than Lando probably would have paid him, or most people would have, for that matter. But even with feverish planning, there was time to do other things. Leia had calls to make to the Alliance, Luke had his lightsaber crystals and materials to study and spend time with, and Lando had his people to correspond with.

“Lando?” Luke called suddenly one day. 

_ Yeah?  _ Lando answered distractedly, since Leia was currently in a conference call with Mon Mothma on their progress a few feet away. Luke came into the room and flopped down next to him on the couch.

“Can you--” he started.

_ Shh _ , Lando scolded, pointing to Leia on her call. 

_ Sorry. Can you clarify for me this part of the plan? I don’t understand this mark on the blueprint. _

_ Oh, sure, that’s... _ he proceeded to explain, bending over Luke’s padd. He really did like this little side effect of the bond, being able to converse without speaking aloud. It was just too damn convenient.

“What are you two doing?” Leia asked, sounding uneasy. Lando glanced up to see her face looking pinched and disapproving, as it hadn’t been lately when he was in the room. “You’re just...gesturing and making faces.”

“Oh.” Luke and Lando glanced at each other. They hadn’t told anyone else about the bond before. Luke suspected that Ahsoka had known, but hadn’t said anything. Lando shrugged.  _ Your move. _ Maybe that was unfair of him, but Leia  _ was _ closer to Luke than she was to Lando, and his own fragile alliance with her was so new. Best let Luke handle it.

“We, uh.” Luke cleared his throat. “Lando is mildly Force-sensitive,” he continued, looking suspiciously red. “When he caught me on the Falcon, we formed this...this bond, through the Force. He, uh, saw that you were on your call, so we talked through that so we wouldn’t disturb you.”

“You two were talking in your heads?” Leia asked incredulously.

“You have to admit, it’s pretty damn convenient,” Lando attempted to joke, feeling suspiciously hot around the collar himself. What was it about Leia Organa that constantly had everyone around her so flustered? He glanced back up at her and saw that unflinching, unimpressed stare. Ah. That was why. Mercifully, she merely rolled her eyes and went back to her work rather than questioning them further. 

She did corner Lando later about working that into the plan, though, which he supposed wasn’t actually a bad idea, even though she berated him the whole while about not divulging a “tactical advantage” earlier.   
~

They had a plan. Oh, the whole thing was bound to go completely off the rails, but they had a plan, and it had to be enough. In two days, Lando would head back to the palace on a water transport, and in a few days after that, the droids Leia had brought would make their way, and then Leia herself would follow with Chewie. In case that didn’t work, they would bring in the big guns--which of course meant their resident Jedi. 

Tonight, however, Lando had followed Luke out to the old Lars homestead.

“This the first time you've been back?” he asked quietly, when Luke’s mind thrummed uneasily at the sight of his old home. The words made a rapid splash across their shared mindscape, like a rubber band being snapped. Not letting himself think about it, Lando reached out and took Luke’s hand. Luke shuddered, but he didn't pull away.

They made their way through halls saturated with the quiet of abandonment. The house had been stripped bare by Jawas long ago of anything valuable, including some of the door frames, but the structure had been left intact. The locals still stayed away--no one had yet moved in, as the tragedy was still too recent. The property wasn’t so valuable that people were willing to risk themselves. Some still remembered far back enough to Shmi Skywalker’s kidnapping and passing, and whispered that the Lars homestead was cursed. Still, nothing haunted Luke but memory as they made their way. Lando felt nothing but the intensity of the stillness.

Shadows flickered across the icy shields Luke had only just begun to thaw, bit by since, since his this evening. Lando had not dared to dwell on what it might mean. 

“I’m not sure what I expected,” Luke said softly, just gently enough not to disturb the silence too greatly. He leaned on what once had been a kitchen counter--all the chairs and tables had been scavenged. “Their bodies are long gone. Aunt Beru’s tea, still waiting in its kettle? A whisper in the Force, telling me they lived here, once?” Luke shook his head. “There’s nothing here but dust.” Lando weighed his words carefully, leaning next to Luke, probably closer than would be advised, but he was lovesick and craving Luke, mind, body, and soul, deeper than bone, the ache of being complete and not complete. His side of the bond curled ever-closer to Luke’s, washing like the ocean towards the shore. Desire flowed through him, to have Luke’s cliffs come down, falling into Lando’s sea.

“Did you come here looking for them, or for yourself?” Luke shifted, glancing at him, sending a mental burst of curiosity to let him know to continue. “Meaning, are you looking for a memory of them, or a memory of yourself?” Lando looked out the window, watching the three moons make their way across the sky. One was full, bright and silver-blue. He let the color saturate into his mind, imbue his words. “It can be hard to recognize yourself when you finally come back home,” Lando said softly. He was thankful for the bond--it let Luke know that the words were not empty, that they came from all the tragedy of experience. 

Luke sagged, a bit. A piece of the glacier broke off into the sea, silent and trusting. 

“This was all my uncle never wanted for me,” he confessed, running his hands across the countertop. “He never wanted me to become like my father.” He toed the floor. “I understand why, now.” The sudden snap of Luke’s eyes to Lando’s had him breathless. There was a moment of tension so great that all Lando was able to do was hold still and wait, but then Luke suddenly walked a few paces away, agitated. No, not just agitated, genuinely upset.

“Luke--”

“My father is Darth Vader,” Luke blurted out, flexing his hands, looking anywhere but Lando’s face. 

Silence.

Lando flashed back, suddenly, to a moment where he couldn’t breathe, because a black-gloved hand ( _ Luke is wearing black, Luke is wearing black and a glove over his hand, his hand that you took, his hand that his father took _ \--) was fisting the air and somehow his throat closed up, and no one in his city was safe, years of work undone because Darth  _ fucking _ Vader decided that one man was worth his whole damn city--

Luke  _ was _ worth his whole damn city. He  _ wasn’t _ , at the same time, but the bond glittered and sang and what if he'd never had this? Losing his city had gained him Luke in the first place. And gods, it was an unfair trade, an  _ unbalanced _ trade, but maybe, just maybe, it was neither fair nor unfair at all. It simply  _ was _ .

“I know--I understand, I mean, if you want to leave,” Luke started babbling, hands twitching, shoulders hunched. Misery and self-loathing pulsed over the bond like an open wound, bleeding through his shields, a sluggish outpouring of guilt. “You lost your whole city because of him, because of  _ me _ , I--”

Lando, made his way over to Luke and pulled him into a hug, cutting him off, and laced every mental pathway he could find with love. Keeping his feelings hidden because he was afraid of not being reciprocated was so much less important than making sure Luke felt loved, in that moment. Lando held Luke and opened what few shields he had learned to make, letting his mind fill with light, and light, and light, and light, and light. He felt tears soak into his shirt and heard Luke’s gasping sobs and made sure he knew the existence of his father meant nothing in the face of his goodness.

“You are not your father’s keeper, Luke,” Lando whispered, soothing. “And I already told you, Bespin was not your fault, nor will it ever be.”

“How can you be so forgiving, when everything you ever worked for--”

“Because it doesn’t need forgiveness at all. It just needs caring.” Luke looked up at that, eyes wet with tears he couldn’t afford to lose on this dry world. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” he breathed, snaking his arms around Lando’s neck and holding him as tightly as he possibly could. “ _ Thank you _ .”

_ Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. _

Luke’s glacial cliffs crashed down, thunderous in the silence of the desert, a burst of life. Luke’s emotions filled Lando’s senses, sand settling into the ocean floor-- _ gods, you feel so deeply, you feel everything, how are you still so full of light _ \--and shifting with the current, rippling out across everything he had ever known. And yes, there was grief there, and uncertainty, and no small amount of fear, so much Luke sometimes felt he would drown in it, but Lando just pushed it, pushed all of it, up towards the light. Such wounds would only kill if they festered--time to let them breathe. Luke sank to his knees, and took Lando with him, but they rose, oh, they rose.

“It’s going to be all right,” Lando whispered.

“I know that, now,” Luke replied, face still buried in Lando’s neck. Here they were, in this place of death and less than death,  _ lifelessness _ , and still, something was growing. Something beautiful.

_ I like having you in my head _ , Luke thought suddenly.  _ Like I said before. Fulfilled. _

Lando’s response was just to curl around Luke, physically, mentally, soul to soul.


	6. Chapter 6

People underestimated Tatooine, Lando discovered. He wholly included himself in that realization. Generally speaking, people didn’t actually settle in wastelands. The sky by day was bleached pale by the twin suns, and the sand was worse. The towns were as miserably drab, though they had many colorful people. 

There was nothing graceful, not to Lando’s well-attuned eye. Nothing flowed, or swept, nothing reached toward the sky to sway, to sigh, to  _ bend _ . Everything was exposed, unsoftened, like a scab wound, arid and jagged...and unexpectedly, unbelievably alive. Near dawn, Lando would venture out, making his careful way over the drug-sleepy inhabitants of Jabba’s palace, and go walking outside the palace walls. He knew he was being watched as he did so, but since he never met anyone or did anything more than walk the desert, in sight of the palace, with his hands carefully visible at all times--well, the guards had much better things to do. 

Lando knew Luke hated the Dune Sea. He couldn’t shake a lifetime of living here and seeing nothing but empty horizon and featureless sand. But he had had enough insight to realize that it wouldn’t be the same for Lando, when he had decided to take him up that dune. And Lando loved him for that. 

Jabba’s palace was situated on a small patch of red rock, and just beyond the walls there was a small patch of scrublands. That was where Lando would go walking. Dry wind, filled with dust, made some of the plants rattle like brittle percussion, and he tried to attune himself to that rhythm. On this morning, Lando took a careful sip of water from his pack to soothe his throat. He couldn’t afford to be off his best today because of thirst, but the water for employees was strictly rationed, and he couldn’t drink it all now. As he watched the sun come over the towering red rock, Lando thought about what the day would hold. He spent no time thinking over the specifics of the plan; he knew them well enough and knew better the useless worry he would cause in himself if he continually ran through it in his mind. 

Only yesterday, he had found himself in the midst of what he would’ve considered to be a good omen--a sudden rainshower, just as he had reached the midpoint of the small scrublands. Electric air made its way onto his tongue, and spiced petrichor filled his senses. Wonder quivered through him, up from his feet to the roots of his hair, filling him with shuddering awe at this rare desert rain. 

Suddenly he became aware that he was not experiencing this alone, as Luke’s mind woke at the smell that had somehow made its way into their bond. No matter how he tried to deny it, Luke was born of the desert, a moisture farmer, attuned to damp and rain like nothing else. A gasp, open-mouthed, made its way to Lando, like a stone across their sea, and Lando couldn’t help but grin. Something was rising in his chest, and it felt remarkably like hope. 

And whether it was real or not, he swore he could feel Luke’s fingers tangled in his as he gazed up at the sky. There was no need to say anything at all. Joy was practically effervescent between them, streaming inside their blood and making their sea sing. Lando returned to the palace soaked, and didn’t care if he woke up a few residents from their stupor by dripping water on the floor.

That had been yesterday, and things were looking a little less than hopeful. Every time Lando passed Han in the carbonite, mounted up on the wall like some sort of trophy, his gut twisted and nausea flooded his whole torso. He watched as Threepio and Artoo presented Luke’s message--they had figured that it wouldn’t work, but best to attempt negotiation anyway, even if it was simply a formality. Leia and Chewie’s role happened equally quickly, with Chewbacca playing the part of a captured Wookie very convincingly, banging against the cell doors and roaring. Lando was hard-pressed not to burst out laughing as he passed by the cell and Chewie shouted out another scary-sounding but possibly anatomically impossible insult. Still, Lando couldn’t shake the tension from his frame as he went to make certain the hallways were clear. Releasing Han from the carbonite wouldn’t take long, but he would probably be totally disoriented. It was essential that there were no interruptions. Lando watched from a distance in the hallway, determined not to overhear their private reunion, but wanting to make sure they were safe.

“I gotta get you out of here,” he heard Leia say, and started to move in, but horribly, inexplicably, Jabba’s disgusting laughter began ringing out in the main room. Lando froze in disbelief--and, to his horror, Han and Leia did too, instead of continuing to make their way over to him. It was nearly an hour before Jabba usually woke up! What in the Force had made him decide to start court early? The curtain opened, and the worm cried out in outrage to see his prize being stolen. Han, even blind and more than a little sick, put himself between Leia and the danger, attempting to talk his way out. Lando shuddered in helpless rage.

“Hey, Jabba. Look, Jabba, I was just on my way to pay you back, but I got a little sidetracked. It's not my fault--”

“ _ It's too late for that, Solo. You may have been a good smuggler, but now you're Bantha fodder _ .” Jaba laughed again and his whole court joined in on the mockery, too afraid and too dependent on this  _ slug _ to care for the life in danger in front of them. 

“Look--” Han tried again.

“ _ Take him away _ !” Jabba said.

“Jabba... I'll pay you triple! You're throwing away a fortune here. Don't be a fool!” Han called as he was lead away, but it was no use. Jabba simply laughed, always laughing, as though Han’s life was worth nothing at all but entertainment. 

Lando grabbed Leia’s arm and tried to take her away, at least get her out safely and they could figure something out, but Jabba noticed before he could get much beyond thoughts.

“ _ Bring her to me _ ,” the worm said, serious now. Lando might have attempted to make some kind of break for it if another guard hadn’t grabbed Leia’s other arm, leading her roughly to Jabba. Leia, for her part, stood tall, making unflinching eye contact with the head of the Huttese criminal empire.

“We have powerful friends. You're gonna regret this,” she said, all fire and steel. Simultaneously, she nudged Lando’s foot with her own, seemingly to get her balance, but Lando knew her meaning-- _ do your mind-talking thing with Luke and plan something. _

“ _ I’m sure _ ,” Jabba leered, and Leia turned away in disgust. It took all of Lando’s control for his rage not to show on his face. Showing any being this kind of disrespect would set his teeth on edge, but for Leia Organa, general of the Rebellion, last of the royal house of Alderaan and one of the cleverest, strongest people he knew to be treated this way was tantamount to a genuine violation. She was taken away and Lando wove his way through the corridors, finding a quiet place to talk to Luke. He finally found an abandoned storage closet of some kind and ducked inside, sagging against the door.

She was taken away and Lando wove his way through the corridors, finding a quiet place to talk to Luke. He finally found an abandoned storage closet of some kind and ducked inside, sagging against the door.

In through his nose, out through his mouth, slow as the tide, Lando breathed. The quiet of the storage closet muffled the noises beyond it to soothing white noise. The dark, still space became a beach,  _ their  _ beach, perhaps just before dawn, with light peeking over the horizon, and  a small, comforting breeze blowing. Lando stood on the sand below the glacial cliffs, and then began walking into the sea. 

_ Luke _ .

_ Lando _ , Luke answered immediately. His voice seemed to come from the reflection of the sunrise, far out on the horizon. Perhaps Lando swam closer to it, or perhaps the horizon bent itself toward him--the sun chasing the wind.  _ What happened? _

_ Han’s out of the carbonite, but he and Leia got caught. I’m not sure yet what happened to her, but I think Jabba will be keeping her close. Han is getting put in a cell. I can make sure he’s with Chewie. _ Lando tried to breathe away his sense of failure. How many times would he fail Han? How would he be able to live with himself if this didn’t work out a second time?

_ Easy, Lando.  _ The sea washed around him, and the sun warmed his face, almost like a caress.  _ We planned for something like this. We’ll make it through. I’ll be there as soon as I can. An hour, at most. I promise.  _

Lando opened his eyes, and went about the business of making them all safe.

First, he stopped by Han’s cell. It was easy to find him, because Han was shouting insults at all the passing guards loud enough for him to hear a corridor away. Lando picked his way through the muck, wrinkling his nose at the lack of cleanliness and the open walls, not only  _ showing _ the piping and circuitry (failing at any kind of pleasing aesthetic), but also failing to safeguard anything delicate or vital. Sloppy. Jabba had a “palace” full of inhabitants, but he clearly didn’t care about piping hot steam leaking into people’s faces, or rust getting into their lungs. Upon arriving at Han’s cell, he checked that the corridor was clear and opened the door. Han immediately went into a corner, raising his fists, for all that he still couldn’t see. 

“Relax,” Lando said in a low voice. “It’s me, it’s Lando. I don’t have time to explain, but I’m taking you to Chewie. We’re working on an escape plan. We’re getting you out of here.” Han didn’t say anything, but his eyes widened and he put down his hands, seeming tense. Lando suddenly had so many things he wanted to say, hours of words he had spoken to Han in his mind, all the thousands of ways he could apologize and explain, but like on Bespin, there was simply no time. Lando gently took his arm and guided him out of the cell. Luckily, Chewie was only a few doors down, but there were guards standing in front of Chewie’s door. No doubt they were unused to dealing with Wookies, and thought that a few guards would be a good precaution. More fool them. A few barely-trained guards would hardly stop a Wookie in a rage. 

“Jabba wants this one in with the Wookie,” he said gruffly. Snorting, the guards didn’t even question him, just grabbed Han from him and shoved him into the cell. Lando winced a little under his mask; he could tell that Han hadn’t landed gently, but he forced himself not to dwell, and went to find Leia. 

To his disgust, she was in the throne room, wearing some kind of metal contraption Force-knew- _ where _ Jabba had gotten it from. Lando wasn’t sure how Leia had been forced into the thing, but she certainly wouldn’t have put on something like that willingly. Every time he had ever seen her, she had been covered everywhere except her hands, face, and hair--stubbornly holding onto Alderaanian dress norms. Lando had certainly known beings who found power in displaying their own skin, but Leia was not one of them. It was nothing short of humiliation, and if rage boiled under his skin at the sight, he could hardly imagine the kind of wildfire she must be feeling.

Despite the excitement of the morning, the court had once again fallen asleep. No doubt Jabba had broken out something strong to celebrate. The Hutts often took rest in short spurts, as opposed to the long stretches most humanoids required, and the court had long ago adjusted itself to the worm’s rhythms. Lando was seriously considering going out into the desert to find Luke, b plan or no plan, when Bib Fortuna walked in and did what Lando had never seen anyone do--he woke Jabba up from his sleep. He almost missed that, however, because Luke, cloaked and hooded, had appeared at the center of the room. 

His power in the Force, even to Lando’s relatively weak senses, was staggering.

“ _ I told you not to admit him _ ,” Jabba growled, outraged.

“I must be allowed to speak,” Luke said in a low, hypnotic tone. Luke’s concentration made its way across the bond in the form of a strong wind, keeping the waves moving in strong, boundless lines. 

“ _ He must be allowed to speak _ ,” Bib Fortuna repeated. Jabba growled and shoved Fortuna away from him as best his stubby limbs could manage.

“ _ You weak-minded fool! He's using an old Jedi mind trick. _ ” Luke pulled down his hood and stepped forward in one smooth movement. The waves crashing on the beach only intensified.

_ You’re standing on the Rancor pit. _

_ It’s all right. I know what I’m doing.  _ “You will bring Captain Solo and the Wookiee to me,” Luke commanded, and Lando took an involuntary step forward himself, drawn like a singer to song, but also full of worry. He certainly knew Luke could handle himself, but without his lightsaber and in danger of facing a massive, humanoid-hungry creature, Lando felt he was justified in being concerned.

“ _ Your mind powers will not work on me, young Jedi _ ,” Jabba sneered.

“Nevertheless, I'm taking Captain Solo and his friends,” Luke said, seemingly unflappable. “You can either profit by this, or be destroyed. It's your choice, but I warn you not to underestimate my powers.” It was a shame the worm had no sense of the Force, Lando thought, because if he did, he would be quaking where he lay. 

“ _ There will be no bargain, young Jedi. I shall enjoy watching you die _ .”

Suddenly, Luke called on the Force, taking a pistol from a guard, and attempted to shoot Jabba--a valiant effort, if ever Lando saw one, but the worm merely activated the trapdoor, sending Luke and another guard below. Involuntarily, Lando lurched forward, and saw that Leia was doing the same thing. He went to her, touching her arm to get her attention. When she turned to glare at him, he shook his head.  _ Wait,  _ he tried to communicate, even though it killed him. Somehow, his hand made its way to Leia’s and squeezed.

Trust, he had once realized, came easier to him than love, but he found it hard to trust Luke to know what to do with an angry rancor--especially when he could feel Luke’s anxious adrenaline juddering along the beach. Lando saw Luke’s face drain of blood at the sight of the creature, but didn’t dare try to speak to him through the bond and risk distracting him. Squeezing Leia’s hand hard enough that it must have hurt, Lando bit down his lip to keep from screaming and blowing his cover when the rancor nearly  _ ate Luke.  _ He felt his heart jump into his throat  again when Luke vanished momentarily from sight, but was relieved when the rancor roared in pain, leaving Luke to dart across the small arena. He didn’t see what happened after that, but felt Luke’s spark of hopeful inspiration, and suddenly, the gate Luke had passed through fell on the rancor’s neck, killing it very nearly instantly. Jabba cried out in outrage, and Lando had left Leia’s side almost before he even realized to get down to Luke.

“ _ Bring me Solo and the Wookiee. They will all suffer for this outrage,”  _ Jabba bellowed as Lando ran out of earshot. He was one of the first guards to reach the holding area, and couldn’t resist running his hand down Luke’s bicep, looking into his eyes, leaning forward just a little.

_ I’m all right _ , Luke murmured, keeping his eye contact as long as he could, while other guards manhandled his hands behind his back and began dragging him back up to the throne room. Lando kept his hand on Luke’s possessively. 

“Han!” Luke called at the sight of his friend.

“Luke!”

“Are you all right?” 

“Fine. Together again, huh?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

“How are we doing?”

“The same as always.”

“That bad, huh?” Lando resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Between the two of them, their humor was as dry as the Dune Sea. “Where’s Leia?” Han asked, looking around wildly with his blind eyes, the first true glimmer of emotion he had displayed.

“I’m here,” Leia reassured him. Jabba began speaking, and Threepio stepped forward to translate.

“Oh, dear. His High Exaltedness, the great Jabba the Hutt, has decreed that you are to be terminated immediately,” Threepio stammered haltingly. 

“Good, I hate long waits,” Han interjected. Lando resisted the urge to sigh. It seemed Han was making up for his year out of commision by making as many quips in a short time span as possible.

“You will therefore be taken to the Dune Sea and cast into the pit of Carkoon, the nesting place of the all-powerful Sarlacc.” Chills ran down Lando’s spine. He had heard about that place spoken in terrified whispers around Mos Espa. They hadn’t planned for this circumstance.

“Doesn't sound so bad,” Han said.  _ What part of that  _ doesn’t _ sound bad _ ? Lando wondered incredulously.

“In his belly, you will find a new definition of pain and suffering, as you are slowly digested over a thousand years,” Threepio said. If the droid could do so, Lando was certain he would be wringing his hands.

“On second thought, let's pass on that, huh?” Han muttered.

“ _ I eat things, I don’t get eaten _ ,” Chewie agreed. And throughout all of this--Leia with her mouth pursed and shoulders drawn up tight, Han with his faux-composure but twitchy hands, Chewie moving restlessly, and the excited chatter of the court--there was Luke, standing relaxed, leaning a little into Lando’s hands. His shoulders were open, and his feet were still, once again completely in control. Consciously, Lando allowed his own tension to bleed out to some far-off shore.

“You should have bargained, Jabba,” Luke said. There was a smile in his voice, a certain kind of serenity that Lando wasn’t sure had anything to do with being a Jedi and everything to do with Luke being who he was. “That's the last mistake you'll ever make.”

They boarded an open speeder and travelled alongside Jabba’s sailing barge, guns trained on them at all times. Lando didn’t mind too much. They weren’t planning on doing anything, yet.

_ R2 is on the barge with my lightsaber and Leia. We’ll be able to pull this off, _ Luke said, not reassurance to Lando, but more to himself. 

_ I trust you _ .

_ You trust a lot of people. _

_ But I don’t love many. _

_ And I don’t trust many. But I trust you, Lando. _ To Lando, that was as good as an answer in kind, for now. Luke smiled, fondly, in a way he had no business doing on a rescue mission. Lando half-heartedly shoved him towards Han, just so they didn’t blow their cover with an untimely display of affection. 

Lando watched Luke talk with Han--“There’s nothing to see. I used to live here, you know.” “You’re gonna die here, you know. Convenient.”--and tried his damndest not to feel jealous. He was met almost immediately with a pulse of amusement from Luke, a brush of placation. Lando tried not to get distracted by basking in the feeling, especially as it was followed by a glance from Luke and a “Just stick close to Chewie and Lando” to Han. Lando made sure that his smugness was broadcast loud and clear to Luke.

_ You are insufferable _ , Luke thought, even as Han addressed Threepio up on the barge.

_ You’re stuck with me. _

_ It’s a bit horrifying, sometimes. _ Luke broke off their conversation to talk to Jabba. “Jabba, this is your last chance,” he called out. “Free us, or die.”

_ You have to admit, it sounds a bit absurd. _

_ Counting on it,  _ Luke thought, amused, glancing at him.  _ Focus, Lando.  _ Lando nodded, but internally, he smirked a bit.

_ Want to get dinner after this? _

_ Focus, Lando _ , Luke repeated, far too amused, as he dropped off the plank. Lando sucked in a breath and tried not to laugh out loud upon seeing the utter  _ ridiculousness _ that was Luke’s acrobatics. The young Jedi ignited his lightsaber in a line of emerald fire, a grin on his face, and dove into the fray. After that, there wasn’t too much time to talk--Lando immediately took off his helmet and swung it at the nearest guard. As Luke dispatched his set quickly with the aid of a lightsaber, Lando had to make do with good old-fashioned hand-to-hand. This proved difficult, since the guard was much, much heavier than anticipated. 

A blaster bolt fired past him, forcing them both off-balance. The guard went tumbling down to the sarlacc, and Lando found himself literally hanging by a thread. Dignity be damned.

“Help!” he called, both physically and mentally. 

_ Lando! Hang on, Boba Fett’s in the way--oh, hells!  _ Luke scowled as Boba Fett entangled him with wire.

_ You do what you have to, don’t worry about me!  _ “Han! Chewie!” Lando yelled, hoping one of them would respond. A second platform of guards came roaring up aside them, and all of them, including Lando, were suddenly in an extremely vulnerable position. Luke lept across the gap as though it was nothing, but Lando didn’t have any time to gape, because he was literally hanging over a giant, hungry pit. As much as he was gratified that Han began trying to help him without a second thought, he really wanted to be back on a solid platform  _ yesterday _ .

A second shot from the barge and their platform suddenly tipped, leaving Lando bereft of even a thread and ever-closer to the sarlacc’s maw. Chewie quickly grabbed Han to prevent him from falling as well. Sandy grit filled Lando’s mouth and his eyes as he fell against the ground. A small kernel of desperation made its way across to Luke before he could stop it, pulsing faster and faster in time with his heart. In return, a flash of alarm, followed by a sudden influx of hyperfocused determination and  _ worry _ . This was followed by rapid-fire  _ gettotheshipgettothedeckclimbtheside _

_ Don’t you dare, Luke Skywalker!  _ Lando snarled. Luke didn’t answer him, and Lando refocused on his own surroundings and concerns--namely, not getting eaten. Suddenly, a horribly  _ slimy tentacle _ wrapped itself around his leg, which was  _ terrifying _ , not just because he was being dragged back to the sarlacc’s maw but also because  _ slimy _ and  _ sand _ did  _ not _ go together in any nice way whatsoever. He managed to snag the barrel of the old rifle Han was holding out to him, but his grip was slipping by the second with the sarlacc still attempting to drag him backwards. 

“Chewie, give me the gun!” he heard Han say, and looked up to see Han aiming at the tentacle ensnaring him.

“Wait, I thought you were blind!”

“It’s all right, I can see a lot better--”

“A little higher, just a little higher!--”

Bless the Force, a horrible screeching squeal came from the beast behind him, and the tentacle let go. Lando couldn’t haul himself up fast enough. As soon as he did, he gave a hug to Han and a hurried “thank you”. Instead of waiting for Han’s reply, since the man was generally terrible at expressing any kind of emotion anyway, he set to work righting their little platform ship immediately, trying to shake off the way his skin was still crawling.

Luke literally swung in on a rope with Leia in tow. 

_ Really? _

“Let’s go, and don’t forget the droids,” Luke said, ignoring Lando’s mental jab entirely. 

“We’re on our way!” Lando said with a fierce grin, revving the engine, taking off across the desert. 

He wasn’t even surprised when the barge exploded behind them.

_ Overkill, Luke. _

_ Shut up. _

~

They decided to take the rest of the day to let Han recover before flying off to join the fleet. Later, on the  _ Falcon _ , when Chewie had taken over preparation duties with a gruff “ _ get some sleep, you look like you’re about to fall over _ ”, Lando made his way to back to the old Kenobi homestead to the room in which he and Luke were currently bunking. Leia had stated firmly that she and Han were sharing and dared anyone to say anything about it. Lando had therefore been obliged to move his things to Luke’s room. Lando found Luke sitting on the bed, looking pensive. A sort of muted, nameless emotion wove itself around him in a blue haze, not quite sadness, but certainly not happiness, either. 

“How’s Han?” Lando asked quietly. He hadn’t bothered trying to check in on him himself--Leia was attached at the hip and not keen on letting anyone else near him, not so soon. 

“Sleeping. He’s out of hibernation sickness, but he’s still weak and had a hell of an adrenaline crash.” Luke hadn’t looked up at Lando once while speaking. Uneasiness thrummed between them like dissonance. A question was in that sound, somewhere, and Lando wasn’t sure whether to voice it.

He looked at Luke’s face carefully, and decided to go ahead, because sometimes ugliness attached itself to his motivations and he put it all aside in pursuit of knowledge for his own ends. “You know, I always thought maybe you were in love with him,” he said bluntly, and wanted to take the words back immediately, as he never had before. “Leia is,” his mouth cruelly kept going. “At least, she said so to him when he was put in carbonite. Are you?” Lando picked at his sleeve. 

Luke was silent for a moment.  _ Maybe I should apologize, it’s really none of my business anyway _ \--

“Sure I was,” Luke said, pulling Lando out of his thoughts. Before Lando could fall to despair, he continued, “Who wouldn’t be? First time away from home and along comes this handsome, rugged smuggler type. It was infatuation at first sight. I know he cares about me, but he’s meant for Leia. I might have landed in his orbit, but those two have their own gravity well.” Lando let that sit for a moment.

“That didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. Luke glanced at him. 

“Insecurity doesn’t suit you, Lando,” he teased. His expression grew serious. “My infatuation with Han had nothing on how I feel about you. You were the one who taught me what love is in the first place,” he said, with a kind of quiet conviction that made Lando fall apart, just a little. 

“Luke--” he started to get out, but the young Jedi had other plans in mind, and crowded him physically and mentally. Lando found himself back against the wall of their room, pressing against the sand and sky beyond it. Somewhere beyond Luke’s side of the bond, stars were beginning to brush the sky. Luke’s gentle hands trailed his arms in tandem. The  _ affection _ flowing through his fingers was enough to leave Lando breathless.

“You’ve been in love with me from the moment you met me, I can see that now,” Luke said softly. He looked up and smiled, almost glowing. “Ever since the bond formed. But in spite of that, you’ve never asked anything of me. All you’ve ever done is give of yourself--kindness, love, help. A whole ocean of it, wearing away any resistance I might have had.” Fondness seeped through him, content to meander, no need for a great rush, as Luke gently pulled Lando’s hand away from his sleeve, took it in his left and soothingly rubbed circles on his wrist. His other hand came up and landed at the nape of Lando’s neck, sinking into coarse curls. Lando blindly imitated him as Luke brought their foreheads together. Unbearable intimacy filled up between them, inside and outside their skins, so full and whole that it was almost painful.  _ Like a chord resolving _ , that was what his mother had said, and it made some sense now. “I  _ adore _ you,” Luke whispered, words shuddering against his mouth, filling his senses, teetering on a dance, not-quite-there.

Coming together, then, was only natural.

Lando leaned down and kissed Luke, and the man  _ melted _ . One last layer of shielding, one so cunningly hidden Lando hadn’t even known it existed, fell away with a sigh between kisses. Suddenly the bond was awash with love, echoing sweetly in their minds, a counterpoint to the language of warm skin and pulling closer. 

“I love you,” Luke managed to get out, when they were catching their breath, wrapped up in each other in a tight line from shoulders to thighs. 

“I know,” Lando smiled, moving up for another brief kiss. 

“Oh, that’s just awful,” Luke chuckled helplessly. “You stole that.”

“It’s just such a good line,” Lando tried to justify. Luke started laughing, and only stopped when Luke leaned down to kiss him again.

They drifted around each other, as stars drift around each other, points of bright in the deafening black, for a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

The next separation, when Luke went to go visit the mysterious Master Yoda, was a little easier, though not by much. Lando occupied himself, as ever, with practical things. His people were overjoyed to see him back, and ensnared him in the Alliance’s plans for Bespin immediately. He was gratified to know that nearly all of the citizens of Cloud City had pledged their loyalty to the cause of regaining their planet. Fierce pride swelled within him whenever he thought of it--a group of people more passionate about their home and livelihood couldn’t be found anywhere, he was certain, because they had  _ built  _ Cloud City, from the smallest screw to the tallest spire, and nothing would keep them from it forever.

During the day, Lando occupied himself with his people, the Alliance, and anything else he could manage to find, but the nights belonged to Luke. Even so far away, Luke’s presence was bright and strong, tethering. They couldn’t communicate yet across great distances, though strong emotions passed through with relative ease. They could feel if the other was safe, and it was a comfort unlike any other. Their minds drifted around each other, almost  _ cuddling _ , burrowing in the warmth they created from their souls alone. And then, there were the dreams.

The old dream came one night. He was suspended above the roaring colors of Bespin, stretched so thin he was nothing but shuddering. The wind was all that filled his lungs as his taut skin refused to breathe, mouth open but not working. Like he was drowning. A scream lodged in his chest, unable to break free, and panic scrambled along his too-tight skin, until a hand closed around his wrist. Another moved from the small of his back to encircle his waist, and a warm body settled against his. 

“I see what you meant. You  _ are _ working too hard,” Luke’s gentle voice chuckled in his ear. 

_ Luke _ ? His desperate question drifted on the air in his mind, unable to open his eyes or voice it.

“Easy, Lando. Easy.” Luke’s hands guided his body until they were upright, instead of perched on the edge of an invisible cliff. “You’ve got to let yourself relax a little. Come on, let’s get your balance back.”

_ Easy for you to say. You’re literally a Skywalker _ . Still, his breathing eased, and he was able to open his eyes to see Bespin’s magnificent sunset.

“There now,” Luke murmured, a smile in his voice. As Lando turned to face him, their arms slipped around each other, and they tumbled over the edge of that invisible cliff together. Luke’s delighted laughter echoed in Lando’s ears as he woke, and he went through his day with a spring in his step.

Only two months after their separation, feelings of anguish and guilt rolled across the bond, storming across their shared sea. All Lando could do, at this distance, was build himself up like a lighthouse.  _ Come home _ .  _ Just come home _ . Shortly thereafter, anger joined the rest, buffeting the waves, threatening a maelstrom, but oddly, while the storm did not calm, exactly, it gained focus--it gained  _ hope. _

Mere hours later, Luke arrived on the cruiser, in the middle of the meeting about the Death Star plans. The  _ second _ Death Star. Another nightmare the size of a moon. Lando didn’t let himself pick at his sleeve uneasily, and trusted in the weight of his cape and line of his crisp uniform to keep his shoulders straight, to keep his head high. He could sense Luke approaching, wasn’t sure why he wasn’t already there. A muffled, brief sense of assurance darted towards him, distracted. Lando took the hint and ruthlessly clamped down on his own seething anxieties, drawing his attention back to the room, not letting himself clench his jaw. 

“Well, look at you! A general, huh?” Lando turned to see Han grinning at him, as though he’d never been away. Though things had been a little awkward at first, it had only taken some time and one or two near-death experiences for their friendship to emerge as strong as it ever was. Leia had been surprisingly helpful with that, not letting them not talk to each other. Han was still wearing the same white shirt and vest combination that he’d worn ten years ago. Damn him for being good looking enough to be able to get away with that nonsense.

“Someone must have told them all about my little maneuver at the battle of Taanab,” he said modestly. He made sure he raised his eyebrow just enough that Han knew just who he suspected had told them.

“Don’t look at me, pal, I just said you were a fair pilot. I didn’t know they were looking for someone to  _ lead _ this crazy attack.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t ask you to do it,” Lando said, with another somewhat pointed expression. Han shook his head with a smile, confirming his suspicions.

“Well, who says they didn’t? Only I ain’t crazy. You’re the respectful one, remember?” Lando grinned ruefully. That he did. The scruffy rogue look did well for morale and publicity, but not so much for internal leadership. Besides, Han was reckless, but even he wasn’t fool enough to fly directly into the Death Star’s core. No, that honor was reserved for the responsible types, like Lando. He tried not to feel too resentful over it. 

A droid signalled the start of the meeting, and Mon Mothma approached the room’s center map. 

“The Emperor has made a critical error, and the time for our attack has come,” she began. Lando noted briefly how her eyes were lined, her mouth unsmiling. Even in her stressful days as a Republic Senator during the Clone Wars, she had never looked anything this close to haggard. Her presentation was as good as any bureaucrat’s--as good as his own performance, really--but a stray hair, a faint shadow under her eyes, and the slightest slouch in her posture gave her away. Lando doubted many in the room could see it, but he felt a pang of sincere sympathy. “The data brought to us by the Bothan spies pinpointed the exact location of the Emperor’s new battle station,” Mon Mothma continued. “We also know that the weapons systems of this Death Star are not yet operational. With the Imperial fleet spread throughout the galaxy in a vain effort to engage us, it is relatively unprotected. But most important of all…” Her face took on a strange shadow, and the room was spellbound by her quiet urgency. Lando worriedly observed that her eyes were somewhat unfocused. “...We’ve learned that the Emperor himself is personally overseeing the final stages of the construction of this Death Star.” There was a brief pause, before she continued, still with that strangely unfocused gaze, “Many Bothans died to bring us this information.” She blinked, forcibly bringing her mind away from whatever memories tormented her, an emotional concession that Lando had never, in all his years, see her make in public. The gravity of the situation hit him, like a bucket of ice water to the face. He wondered what Bothan she had known, that she was so clearly wounded. Hastily, she handed off control of the briefing.“Admiral Ackbar, please.”

He watched her tuck her hands into her sleeves, but not before he saw them shaking.

Admiral Ackbar, a respected pillar of the Rebellion and of the Mon Calamarians, brought up what looked to be the Death Star in orbit around a small planet or moon.

“You can see here the Death Star orbiting the forest moon of Endor. Although the weapons systems on this Death Star are not yet operational, the Death Star does have a strong defense mechanism. It is protected by an energy shield, which is generated from the nearby forest moon of Endor. The shield must be deactivated if any attack is to be attempted. Once the shield is down, our cruisers will create a perimeter while the fighters fly into the superstructure, and attempt to knock out the main reactor. General Calrissian has volunteered to lead the fighter attack.”

“Good luck,” Han interjected. Lando turned to glare at him, but he just shrugged and added, “You’re gonna need it.” Leia rolled her eyes.

“General Madine,” Ackbar introduced, stepping back.

“We have stolen a small Imperial shuttle. Disguised as a cargo ship and using a secret Imperial code, a strike team will land on the moon and deactivate the shield generator.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Threepio fretted.

“I wonder who they found to pull that off?” Lando heard Leia wonder to Han.

“General Solo, is your strike team assembled?” If Lando didn’t have such impeccable self-control, his jaw would’ve dropped.  _ That sly bastard. _

“Uh, my team’s ready; I don’t have a command crew for the shuttle.”

“ _ Me, obviously _ ,” Chewie complained, raising his hand.

“It’s gonna be rough, pal; I didn’t want to speak for you,” Han cautioned.

“ _ As if I’d actually let you go without me _ ,” Chewie rumbled.

“That’s one,” Han grinned.

“General, count me in,” Leia interjected, smiling proudly.

“I’m with you, too!” Luke’s voice rang out over the chamber and it was all Lando could do not to surge up immediately, partially in surprise and partially in relief. As it was, the only outward sign of his struggle was a twitch of his hands when Leia hugged him, and Han and Chewie surrounded Luke. His...bondmate? Lover? Felt tired. There was a weight to his words and his mental presence that spoke of not just physical exhaustion, but emotional and mental exhaustion as well. Distantly, he heard Han and Leia briefly chatting with Luke, but Mon Mothma was wrapping up the briefing and  _ someone _ had to pay attention. The crowd began to disperse to various stations and berths throughout the ship. There was an undercurrent of the tenseness that comes from waiting for a battle to begin. Lando settled back and waited. He was used to waiting, and he was an adult and so was Luke. He could certainly wait a few seconds more, and trust that Luke would come to him.

Luke chatted with Leia, Han and Chewie for a little longer, until even Luke’s Jedi serenity began to prickle under both of their skins, and he finally excused himself. Luke met Lando’s eyes for the first time in months--heady, focused, a conversation without words, not even the words inside their minds. The others left as he and Lando stared at one another, drinking in and drifting, until there was no one left in the briefing room except them. Even the droid behind Lando had left at the behest of Mon Mothma. Luke, after a heavy silence, spoke first.

“You look tired.” His voice reached across the silence and held him gently, like waves caressing the edge of the sand. Lando’s hands twitched, but his gaze held onto Luke’s, like a lighthouse on a foggy sea.

“I am, but so are you.”

“Haven’t you heard there’s a war on?” Luke smiled gently, somehow, with any bitterness draining steadily away. “Will you show me your quarters? I want to spend time, just the two of us. No politics, no war.”

“I would like that,” Lando said softly.

When Luke turned to leave, still not touching him, Lando was helpless but to follow.

A two-foot gap persisted as the mere presence of Luke tugged Lando wordlessly through the halls of the Alliance cruiser. It wasn’t far to the passenger berths, but every passing second felt like falling under dragging ocean currents. Maybe they were both just dim stars drifting in the current of gravity. Lando took the lead after a moment, making his way to the general-level quarters, and keyed in his passcode. Soft jazz and low lights greeted them as they entered--Lando had gotten into the habit of filling the silence, and never put the full harsh lights on in his quarters. Luke smiled at the sound as he hung up his cloak and utility belt--it was endearing.

“Tell me, Master Skywalker, do Jedi dance?” Luke turned to see Lando holding out a hand to him, a raised eyebrow, one of those shy, uncertain smiles that he was certain were just for him. Amber warmth burned low across the bond, like candle glare. Luke, to his credit, only blushed a little and took Lando’s hand without hesitation, settling his other hand on Lando’s shoulder. Lando took both of their hands and settled them on his chest, while the other rested on Luke’s waist.

“Every time I think there can't possibly be any charm left, you go do something like this,” Luke laughed softly, almost self-conscious. He would’ve ducked his head, but Lando’s eyes, half-lidded, loving, caught him too well.

“This was an accident,” Lando protested. He grinned, sharp and sweet. “A very happy accident.” Luke, feeling a warm kind of buzz he usually associated with alcohol, looped his arms around Lando’s neck, swaying with him to the music. Lando, uncomplaining, took the opportunity to pull Luke flush against him.

“Well,  _ General _ Calrissian,” he said, teasing (though bits of pride burst brightly over their sea), “to answer your question, Jedi do dance--at least, when the ones asking are as handsome as you.”

“Flatterer,” Lando said, but the amber warmth deepened, and Luke knew he was pleased. 

“How are you, darling, truly?” The endearment slipped out of Luke’s mouth before he could think about it, but Lando seemed to like it, taking one of Luke’s hands and kissing it in chaste affection. A tired sigh escaped his lips in a huff.

“You said no politics,” he reminded Luke.

“I know,” Luke said, “I'm just concerned. You seem worn down.” Concern spread warm from his fingertips, genuine and worried.

“We’re on the eve of this war’s decisive battle,” Lando reminded him gently. “I can't afford to rest yet.”

“Let me take care of you,” Luke pleaded. “You're always taking care of everyone else. Let me take a turn with you.”

“You  _ are _ taking care of me,” Lando assured him.  He smiled. “Just by being here.” They circled and swayed for a few moments, Lando’s nose buried in Luke’s hair, Luke tucked up against Lando’s chest.

“I never actually thought I'd have this,” Lando admitted, nosing Luke’s nape, trailing tender kisses to his jaw. 

“Anybody would have been lucky to have you, Lando,” Luke replied, sighing as Lando stopped his ministrations to look at him. “I mean that. You've seen everything you've built crumble around you, and somehow you still keep going. You've never been anything but kind to me, in spite of everything. I'm the lucky one, that I even landed in your orbit, let alone that I get to keep you.”

“Most people--myself included--would probably see it as the other way around,” Lando murmured. “Who could help but love you?”

Luke leaned back slightly, his hips caught in the hold of Lando’s arms, lowering his voice, gazing at his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” he repeated, and Lando was disinclined to refuse him. That night, that final night before the fateful days ahead, two people made love and forgot their responsibilities, fading into themselves, letting their hearts fall as hard as they might--not knowing, after all was said and done, if this was their last quiet evening. The next morning, they rose, and Lando had to face not only his own mission, but the full nature of Luke’s Jedi destiny. 

Luke didn’t tell him, exactly. Not with words, not even with direct thoughts. But sometimes, when he was meditating very deeply, his shields, still extensive, let things through. That was how Lando found out Luke’s plan to save Darth Vader. At first, anger swelled through him, roaring like a broken engine, at the injustice, at the willful blindness, at the echo of his own pain. Then calm, not quite his own and yet something he had learned, bubbled up, buoying the anger away. Gently. It was then when he knew. 

Sighing, Lando brought Luke a cup of green tea. The scent was clean and focused his thoughts. Luke smiled at this smallest of gifts, because it was the small things that mattered in a galaxy of exploding worlds and not enough time for making memories.

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Lando said. Luke glanced at him, then sat down, sighing. “You're incredibly powerful, Luke. I believe you can do anything,” he said, completely honestly. Luke looked at him, eyes wide, at his sincerity, and then glanced away, laughing self-deprecatingly.

“I'm not powerful, Lando. By the standards of any Jedi I've met I'm barely half-trained. I only seem powerful because I'm the only one around. Or at least, I’m the only one in the spotlight. Compared to Vader or the Emperor, I'm...well.”

“That's not what I meant.” Lando came around the table, scraping a chair back and taking Luke’s hands in his own. “Despite everything you've ever faced, everything you've ever been through, you've come through it all with kindness, and gentleness, and grace. And that is power.”

“What--” 

Lando sent a  _ hush _ to Luke, like freshly fallen snow. He wondered, briefly, if Luke had ever seen snow. Luke sent him a flash of Hoth in return. This did not make the conversation lose focus. Rather, it was like they were conversing on several levels, all at once.

“In all my years as a gambler and smuggler, I saw many people manipulated by what they wanted, and what they did not have. Those people were desperate, willing to do anything, and gods, they did. But the greatest form of manipulation I ever saw was kindness.”

“I've been thoroughly hoodwinked, then,” Luke laughed warmly. “But I don’t believe you.”

“Modesty is only useful when it serves a purpose,” Lando chastised. “But when it prevents you from knowing your strengths, it hinders. You are a compassionate being, Luke. And in that you have unimaginable strength.”

“You flatterer,” Luke teased softly. But warmth stemming from Lando’s praise flowed out of his side of the bond anyway, like drifting flowers in springtime on Lando’s homeworld. Still, there was a distinct air of sobriety around them now, the subject at hand hanging heavy in the air. “You don’t believe he can be saved.” Honesty burned, echoing, in Lando’s throat.

“I believe you’re the only one who could.” He watched as the honesty, flickering, softened Luke’s face, and was content for a moment, but only a moment, when Luke’s thoughts once again became pensive, though much more shielded than before. Lando, unwilling to let it go at that, leaned their foreheads together and sighed. 

“I’m going to make a promise to you,” he murmured. “I’m going to try my damndest to get back to you.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Can I even ask you the same?” Luke’s breath shuddered against his mouth, almost desperately.

“You’d better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in the songs I was using to write the jazz scene, here are the three I had in mind:  
> https://youtu.be/3WxG9YzORSg  
> https://youtu.be/3K3ZgHwpWag  
> https://youtu.be/fCsNg6XB3dg


	8. Chapter 8

The morning of their offensive felt tense and nearly electric. It thudded up through Lando’s feet as he and Luke made their way to the hangar bay. People bustled and called out greetings to each other, and made time for close friends and lovers and the people they cared about--the people they were fighting for. Leia came up to him and hugged him before they departed on the shuttle, which was a welcome surprise.

“General Calrissian,” she said, smiling. “You’ve earned it. And I’m so, so glad I was wrong about you.”

“Princess, it has been an honor,” Lando said sincerely, and he could tell she knew he meant it, because her smile grew even wider.

“You know, Han told me you were a scoundrel,” she teased him. “I think he was right.” With a glance toward Luke, she made her way toward the shuttle to check that their supplies were in place. Luke stepped into his space, eyes warm. The sounds of the busy hangar bay disappeared, and in its place were lapping waves and a steady tide. 

“We both made a promise,” Luke murmured.

“I know.” Lando merely took a moment to bask in Luke’s presence, closing his eyes as they embraced, and filling his soul with light.

_ I love you _ , Luke whispered.

_ I love you, too. _

All too soon, they separated, and Luke made his way to the shuttle. He did not look back, but the touch of his mind lingered. 

Han appeared beside him with a wry smile as he began walking toward the battle fleet.

“So this is it,” he said.

“It sure is,” Lando agreed. He looked around and saw people scurrying around, checking supplies, performing final flight checks and last-minute repairs. “We’ve got good people on this, Han.”

“Far cry from our smuggling days, isn’t it?” Han said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Lando laughed. “Making our escapes from bars, running Imperial blockades.”

“Well, we’re still doing that at least.” Han looked thoughtful for a moment, then blurted out, “Take the  _ Falcon _ .”

“What?” Lando asked, nonplussed. “Han, I can’t, that’s your ship--”

“Look. I want you to take her. I mean it. Take her.” Han shifted from foot to foot, seemingly irritated that his offer hadn’t been accepted yet. “You need all the help you can get. She's the fastest ship in the fleet.” Lando held his hands up in surrender, helplessly grinning.

“All right, old buddy. You know, I know what she means to you. I'll take good care of her. She-she won't get a scratch. All right?”

“Right.” Han started to walk away, nodding his head like he was trying to convince himself. Lando, who knew his old friend too well, waited until he turned back. His mouth was open in disbelief, like he could hardly believe what was happening, but Han had always been terrible at outright expressions of emotions in general, let alone a heartfelt goodbye to his old friend before the most important battle of the war. Lando was therefore not surprised when Han opened his mouth and said, “I got your promise now. Not a scratch.”

“Look, would you get going, you pirate,” Lando laughed. Han paused and gave him a two-fingered salute, which Lando returned.

“Good luck,” he said sincerely, and Han nodded.

“You too.”  
All too soon, after long speeches and too-short goodbyes, Lando was seated in the _Falcon_ , weaving around the fleet with his pilots close behind as they prepared to jump to hyperspace.

“Admiral, we’re in position,” Lando informed Admiral Ackbar. “All fighters accounted for.”

“ _ Proceed with the countdown, _ ” Ackbar acknowledged. “ _ All groups assume attack coordinates _ .”

“ _ The Admiral doesn’t seem optimistic,does he _ ?” Nien Nunb asked.

“Don’t worry, my friend’s down there! He’ll have that shield down on time.”

“ _ Sometimes you humans have too much faith in friends. _ ”

“Or this’ll be the shortest offensive of all time,” Lando muttered to himself, ignoring his copilot.

“All craft, prepare to jump into hyperspace on my mark.”

“All right, stand by.” He forced himself to breathe normally as they pulled into hyperspace. The comms were eerily silent throughout the ride to Endor. People were just trying to breathe before the battle started. Lando was no exception. He closed his eyes and listened for Luke’s heartbeat.

“ _ Five minutes to approach _ ,” Nien Nunb informed him. Reluctantly, Lando pulled himself away from the ocean, but kept the feeling of the balancing wind with him, and prepared for battle.

The  _ Falcon _ pulled out of hyperspace ahead of the rest of the fleet. Endor filled his vision. The Death Star could have been any secondary moon or asteroid floating serenely in space. But Lando shook his head briefly and toggled his comm--he had a job to do. “All wings, report in.”

“ _ Red Leader standing by. _ ”

“ _ Grey Leader standing by. _ ”

“ _ Green Leader standing by. _ ”

“ _ Lock S-foils in attack positions _ ,” Wedge said. Lando felt himself relax, just a little, at Wedge’s calm relay of orders. He was too experienced to let anything make him appear to be stressed in front of his squadron.

“ _ May the Force be with us _ ,” Admiral Ackbar intoned over the comm. Privately, Lando thought that so far, the Force seemed to be wholly on Luke’s side, and that, more than anything, would be what he would trust in.

“ _ I can’t get any reading on the shield; it’s almost like we’re being jammed _ ,” Nien Nunb said suddenly. A pit opened up in Lando’s stomach.

“We’ve got to be able to get some kind of reading on that shield, up or down!”

“ _ I’m almost certain they’re jamming us _ ,” Nien shot back, eyes on all the readings while his hands moved blindly to try to counteract.

“Well, how could they be jamming us if they don’t know--”  _ a flash in his head, full of black gloves and green lightsaber and harsh breathing _ \--“if we’re coming?” Dead certainty blasted through all his denial as he felt Luke’s sudden anxiety shuddering over their sea, faint but rippling. There was no room for inaction. He opened his comm on all frequencies and ordered, “Break off the attack! The shield is still up!”

“ _ I get no reading. You sure _ ?” There was Wedge, voice as mild as an afternoon on some distant beach. What gave his experience away was how quickly he had responded.

“Pull up! All craft, pull up!” Lando called urgently. Several squadrons banked sharply, surreal against an invisible edge of space, every single one of them with the sudden, terrible feeling of flying blind.

“ _ Take evasive action. Green Group, stick close to holding sector MV-7. _ ”

Faintly crackling over the comms, Lando heard someone else on Ackbar’s bridge shout, “ _ Admiral! We have enemy ships in sector 47. _ ”

“ _ It’s a trap!” _ Ackbar gasped, and Lando could practically  _ feel _ the waves of horror rolling over the Rebel fleet, but he had a job to do and chance of death at any moment, and he was the Force-damned Gold Leader. TIE fighters started swarming and some of the fighters were too green to snap out of their shock without assistance.

“Fighters coming in!” he said, as much to shake himself out of his horror as anyone else. 

“ _ There’s too many of them! _ ” one of the less experienced pilots said.

“Accelerate to attack speed! Draw their fire away from the cruisers,” Lando ordered. 

“ _ Copy, Gold Leader _ ,” Wedge said, as though he hadn’t taken all of it in stride as soon as he saw the TIE fighters. He would never be sure why Wedge wasn’t the Gold Leader, but it was far too late to begin wondering about things like that now. Lando began maneuvering through the sea of fighters, giving directions to his squadron practically by rote, because leadership was, at its heart, successful delegation. It was this pure familiarity of muscle memory that, despite the chaos, allowed him to register a cold feeling, deep in his mind and his chest. He knew Luke well enough by now to recognize when an emotion was not his own.

“Watch yourself, Wedge! Three from above!” he called, staying focused through the pain, focusing the textures of the switches beneath his fingers and the leather of the pilot seat. 

“ _ Red Three, Red Two, pull in! _ ”

“ _ Got it! _ ”

“ _ Three of them coming in, twenty degrees! _ ”

“ _ Cut to the left, I’ll take the leader _ ,” Wedge said.  _ Damn _ him, it was the galaxy’s decisive battle and he  _ still _ sounded like it was a training exercise. “ _ They’re heading for the medical frigate. _ ”  _ That  _ got Lando’s attention; the medical frigate was not a ship they could afford to lose. In a feat of dexterity Han would have been proud of, he flipped the  _ Falcon _ in a tight spin to defend the frigate from the TIE fighters, when he noticed the veritable hoard of Star Destroyers just sitting in a blockade formation.

“Only the fighters are attacking. I wonder what those Star Destroyers are waiting for,” he said. The cold feeling in his head and his chest were being compounded by Luke’s heartbeat, which he could feel from  _ here _ , picking up speed exponentially. The bond’s ocean began rolling in towering waves, picking up Lando’s stomach and dropping it in rhythmic intervals, until--

_ LANDO!  _ Luke suddenly screamed, and light filled his vision. Blindly, Lando felt the ship rock back and forth. For one terrifying second, he couldn’t tell the difference between the waves in his mind and the waves buffeting the  _ Falcon _ . There was a shrill ringing in his mind, not unlike the ringing from an explosion, but it was in his  _ head _ , not his ears, and the sea of the bond was utterly, completely windless. Static. But then the Death Star was in front of him and he was a leader and this was war and he couldn’t  _ worry _ if Luke was dead yet, because it was clear what had happened and Luke couldn’t have been in the path of fire, he  _ couldn’t _ have.

“That blast came from the Death Star!” he said in horrified disbelief.  _ Luke, Luke, answer me. Luke, are you all right?  _ “That thing’s operational!” He toggled his comm, at the same time desperately stretching his mind out to find Luke, his beloved, his own, his bonded.  _ Luke, please. I’m all right. I’m okay. Where are you? Answer me, love. _ “Home One, this is Gold Leader.”

“ _ We saw it. All craft prepare a retreat. _ ” 

“You won’t get another chance at this, Admiral,” Lando warned, even as he brought the  _ Falcon _ out of the line of fire.

“ _ We have no choice, General Calrissian! Our cruisers can’t repel firepower of that magnitude _ ,” Ackbar stressed.  

“Han will have that shield down,” Lando gritted out amongst the shrill ringing in his head. “We’ve got to give him more time!”

~

Luke’s mind was nothing but doldrums, flat,  _ empty _ , ringing like an explosion. 

 

He felt carved out. 

Exposed. 

_ Raw _ . 

 

There was only one thing it could mean.

_ How did he Fall? _

_ Simple. Palpatine told Anakin that I was dead. _

“Your fleet is lost,” the Emperor gloated, without even a facsimile of sympathy. He would have almost sounded soothing if not for the genuine glee in his eyes. “And your friends on the Endor moon will not survive. There is no escape, my young apprentice.” Luke looked up from his open-mouthed grief to see his father’s ever-blank stare, and fought to grasp onto something, to anything. Luke’s chest began heaving with emotion, unable to believe, unable to  _ stop _ believing. “The Alliance will die...as will your friends.” The Emperor’s yellow eyes mocked him, as if to say,  _ one already has _ .

Rage was a poison Luke had never known before, not like this. Cold ice and blazing flames shook outwards from his chest to his fingertips. He glanced at his lightsaber, and thought of the love and the hope that had been poured into procuring it. An image of Lando came to him, full of joy and laughter as he stretched his hands out to feel the wind. 

It had been the first time Luke had ever found anything on Tatooine beautiful.

Luke tried to calm his heart, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe, gasping, open-mouthed. “Good,” the Emperor crooned. He closed his eyes, sickeningly reverent in the face of Luke’s pain. “I can feel your anger. I am defenseless. Take your weapon! Strike me down with all of your hatred, and your journey towards the dark side will be complete.”

Could it have only been two nights that he and Lando were laughing, dancing, reveling in the peace only they could give each other? Could it have been only two nights ago that they had made love, sighing, smiling, breathlessly caught up in each other, feeling down to the Force itself the rightness of it all? Could it have only been a year and a half ago that he fell into Lando’s arms, and an ocean of light formed in his mind? An ocean that was now  _ lifeless _ , buffeted by no wind, ringing only with silence?

Could it have only been moments ago that Lando--

Before he could think further, his lightsaber was in his hand, and his father moved just as instinctively as he did. The devastation of utter heartbreak swept his mind clean, and he attacked.

~

“Yes! I said closer! Move as close as you can and engage those Star Destroyers at point-blank range!” Lando grit his teeth and flew the best that he knew how, flying in reckless, tight spirals. His heartbeat, too fast, felt so hollow, beating without an ocean behind it. 

“ _ At that close range, we won't last long against those Star Destroyers! _ ” Ackbar reprimanded.

“We'll last longer then we will against that Death Star!” Lando countered. “And we might just take a few of them with us!” He didn’t let himself think that maybe, possibly, all too likely, he was being reckless because maybe he didn’t have anything to go back to. Which was ridiculous--he had Bespin, and Han and even Leia, but as more Rebel fighters died, as more of them screamed and yelled out their final words over the comms, as the doldrums in his head felt more and more unnatural, despair seeped into his bones, and a certainty rose up in him that he was going to die. And if he did, at least he wouldn’t be leaving Luke behind.

“ _ She's gonna blow! _ ”

“ _ I'm hit! _ ”

The flat nothingness in Lando’s mind stretched in deafening silence, even among the noise of the ship and the screaming over the comm--

~

Vader was strong, but he was not young, and he was not flexible. Luke was easily able to get under his guard, and kick him down the stairs. His father let out an involuntary cry of pain, one that Luke took irrational, vicious pleasure in--until wretched laughter came from the throne behind him.

“Good.  Use your aggressive feelings, boy!  Let the hate flow through you.” Jaw clenched and reaching out for every scrap of control he had, Luke shut down his lightsaber, unaware in that moment just how much he resembled another Jedi, having taken the high ground, standing over Anakin on Mustafar.

“Obi-Wan has taught you well,” Vader said, and the way he sounded almost thoughtful, almost sad, even a little wistful, pulled Luke back from the edge of the darkness. That was love in his father’s voice, however twisted, for a man who had both been their mentor. 

Luke allowed his anger to slip away, and for his grief to fill him and said, “I will not fight you, father.” He was not his father’s keeper and he was not his father and he was not alone, even if his mind screamed at him that all of these things were true. But there was so much love beyond the darkness. There was so much hope left beyond himself in this moment. Han and Leia were on the planet below, trying desperately to shut down the shield generator, and out there in space was the Rebellion--defiant, hopeful, brave. 

As his father approached him, however, even that knowledge could not shake off the distraction of the flat silence in his mind.

“You are unwise to lower your defenses!” Vader snarled at him and kept attacking, and Luke knew, with sudden clarity, that the only way to make it through this was to cling to what light he had left. Without Lando to provide him balance, without wind, he would have to move upward towards the sun. He took the high ground again, this time by flipping up onto a walkway ( _ the last time he had used such acrobatics, Lando had been with him on Tatooine and he had laughed and laughed and laughed, even in the middle of trying to rescue themselves and Han _ ). He let the memory of Lando’s love, of Leia and Han, the memory of his father’s extinguished hope, propel his word forward.

“Your thoughts betray you, father. I feel the good in you...the conflict.” Luke had no choice but to believe, not if he was to live in the light.

“There is no conflict,” his father said coldly.

“You couldn't bring yourself to kill me before, and I don't believe you'll destroy me now.” Words sparked actions. Words could make half-formed thoughts come to life. Words could make people  _ believe _ . 

“You underestimate the power of the dark side,” his father insisted. With the air of one issuing an ultimatum, his drew himself up and declared, “If you will not fight, then you will meet your destiny.” Hardly before Luke could duck, a lightsaber came flinging at him, and he fell in a shower of sparks and metal, and the certain, terrible knowledge that his father was stalking after him in the dark. The balance of Luke’s thoughts tumbled with the catwalk, and he fell into his own flat ocean. 

Where was the light? The current? 

Without the wind and tide singing the sun to him from where his feelings drowned, Luke sank into nothing but darkness.

~

The battle was vicious and Rebellion ships limped after hard-won victories, but found no rest. This was a battle to the death, and everyone knew it. They would either win, or be completely destroyed.

“Watch out. Squad at .06,” Lando called into the comm, almost by rote. All of his focus, every scrap that he could muster, was placed outward. His hands moved blindly over the controls and his eyes took in every detail possible of the battle. 

“ _ I'm on it, Gold Leader. _ ”

“ _ Good shot, Red Two, _ ” Wedge said, somehow still finding the time in all of this to be encouraging. But Lando couldn’t even crack a smile.

“Come on, Han, old buddy. Don't let me down,” he said, willing his words to bring forth reality. It was nothing more or less than a prayer.

~

“You cannot hide forever, Luke,” his father’s voice came from the darkness. Luke could hardly hear it. He was drowning.

“I will not fight you,” he managed, voice spiraling out sluggishly into the water around him. He did not know which way was up--the light was so hard to find--

“Give yourself to the dark side. It is the only way you can save your friends.” Inevitably, Luke’s thoughts went to Lando, then Leia.  _ Leia _ . She was the only family he had left. He was the only family  _ she _ had left, for he would not force her to acknowledge her bond to the man stalking him through the dark. “Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for--” Fear swelled through him, the first time there had been a semblance of a current in this dark, cold sea--“Sister! So...you have a  _ twin sister _ . Your feelings have now betrayed her, too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If  _ you _ will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will--”

Before Luke even realized what was happening, a maelstrom erupted all around him. His lightsaber was in his head and he screamed in anguish, charging forward with no light to guide him. Swinging wildly, Luke just kept hitting and hitting and hitting, not even necessarily attempting any specific target but whatever was directly in front of him. His father’s endurance was weak in that suit of his and once Luke was physically above him, it was easy, far too easy, to knock his red lightsaber away and cut off his hand. 

Vader lay on the ground, his breath coming too fast, as he remembered another man who loved him like a brother, who had stood above him and cut off his limbs, in an action that had left them both broken. ( _ Loved him like a brother _ ,  _ Vader remembered. Obi-Wan did love him. Had loved him. Beyond measure. How could he have forgotten that? _ ) The Emperor’s cackle came from where he was still seated, speaking to Luke.

“Good! Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side!” Vader waited for death from his son. It would only be fitting. But Luke stared at his own gloved hand, flexing it. The torment that had flooded his son’s presence in the Force suddenly dissipated, and was replaced by something that could only be described as light. 

Lando would not be proud of him if he abandoned himself to rage and wrath. He had never let any crisis interfere with doing what had to be done. Leia knew anger deep in her bones and she had never let it control her. Han, even half-blind and unsure, always put up a fight, had come back to help destroy the first Death Star because he felt a spark of hope.

Luke would not fall to the dark side. This grief was not love. If all he ever had left of Lando was memory, then love was not enough. Trust would have to become his new foundation. Trust in the memory of one he loved would bring him back to the light. 

Vader watched in wonder as his son stood tall and threw his lightsaber away without a second glance. 

“Never,” Luke quietly declared, breathing hard. “I'll never turn to the dark side.” He stepped forward with a defiant smile. “You've failed, Your Highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me.”

The Emperor’s cold rage filled the throne room.

“So be it... _ Jedi _ .”

~

“ _ The shield is down! Commence attack on the Death Star's main reactor! _ ” Admiral Ackbar called through the comm. Cheers and whoops of laughter sounded across the Fleet, and Lando couldn’t help but grin. 

“We're on our way!” he acknowledged. “Red Group, Gold Group, all fighters follow me!” He laughed, a wild hope stirring in his chest. “Told you they'd do it!”

~

“If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed,” the Emperor growled, and before Luke could react, blinding pain struck him from head to toe and he was flung back, unable to do anything but writhe and scream. 

And suddenly, a gust of wind, on the surface of his ocean,  _ their _ ocean.  _ No _ , Luke thought in horror.  _ No.  _ But the Emperor’s sickly smile confirmed his fears.

“Young fool...only now, at the end, do you understand,” he sneered.

_ Lando. Lando. Lando. _ It took all of Luke’s remaining power to keep his pain from reaching out, fighting to keep underwater, so his bonded, his beloved would not feel him in pain as he died. He was aware that he was screaming and that the Emperor was speaking, but Luke’s mind was filled with nothing but warm brown skin and kind eyes and a steady being. With a mind full of love and a body under wrath, Luke looked to his father and begged.

“Father, please!” he gasped out, wracked with pain and desperate will to live. He projected, with all his might, the love he had--not just for Lando, but for Leia, and Han, Chewie and Artoo, for his aunt and uncle and last, last but never least, his mother. The only smile he had ever seen her give, the memory of her voice, everything he had hoarded and stored inside his heart from the one encounter they had ever been permitted. 

“Now, young Skywalker...you will die.” The voice seemed so distant but the pain was not and Luke could do  _ nothing _ , he could stop  _ nothing _ and in his mind retreated to cool, dark silence.

But the pain stopped, and suddenly, the screaming was not from him. With the spots dancing over his vision it was hard to be certain, but it  _ had _ to be true--his father, Vader, bodily picking up the Emperor, Sidious, the most powerful Sith Lord in all of history, and threw him down the shaft. Blue energy, foul and unnatural, blazed up with screaming winds that had nothing to do with balance, or everything to do with it, as hoarded power was released back into the Force.

Luke ran to his father as he began to fall, and kept half his mind on keeping the bond at bay. Unable to trust in his body’s shaky control to be able to withstand using the Force, he dragged his father through the halls, toward a shuttle, until they were both drained, and collapsed. No one paid any mind, now, to the fallen Vader, who they had all so feared. In an eerie way, surrounded by panicking people, they were alone.

“Luke, help me take this mask off,” his father said suddenly.

“But you’ll die,” Luke protested. 

“Nothing can stop that now,” his father said, almost gently. “Just for once... let me look on you with my own eyes.” And though there was no time, and though the world seemed to be falling apart around them, the Force whispered,  _ there is time enough for this _ .

Luke lifted the mask from his father’s face and saw eyes that were his own, brilliant blue. And his father, with pale skin and a body damaged beyond repair, smiled for the first time in his son’s lifetime. Though his body was incapable, he reached out with the Force, with the light, for the first time in years, and touched the mind of his son. There he found, to his overwhelming joy, a bond awash with light. Luke, his son, his son with his eyes and his mother’s faith in love, knew that boundless fulfillment, the one that for him had taken the form of an endless star-filled sky. Anakin Skywalker saw this, and saw that the Emperor had tried and failed to break his son the same way he himself had been broken, and felt at peace.

“Now...go, my son. Leave me.”

“No. You're coming with me,” Luke insisted, even as he knew it was fruitless. “I’ll not leave you here--I've got to save you.”

“You already have, Luke,” his father assured, still smiling. How could he be so full of joy when he was dying? “You were right...you were right about me. Tell your sister...you    
were right.” The light in his eye flickered briefly.

“Father,” Luke tried, his throat tight with emotion. “I won't leave you!” he cried, but Anakin Skywalker slumped backwards, once more himself, as the air he had breathed in for himself left his body permanently. 

Luke stared, hollow-eyed, until the Force prodded at him to  _ move _ . The engineer inside him told him that the rumbling under his feet meant nothing good, so Luke dragged his father’s body aboard the shuttle and flew through flight checks, speeding toward open space. 

Just as the hangar bay exploded outwards, the wind on the sea picked up.

~

“ _ I'm going in, _ ” Wedge said.

“Here goes nothing,” Lando agreed, following. “Now lock onto the strongest power source. It should be the power generator.”  
“ _Form up. And stay alert. We could run out of space real fast_ ,” Wedge warned.

It felt almost unreal, to be flying into the superstructure of a space station the size of a moon, but Lando reminded himself to be grateful. The  _ Falcon _ was maneuverable out in space, but these pipes were a bit of a squeeze even for her. All too soon, a TIE fighter took out one of their fighters, which exploded dangerously close to someone else. Lando cursed under his breath. In this cramped space, they could afford to have as many people as they’d hoped.

“Split up and head back to the surface. See if you can get a few of those TIE fighters to follow you.”

“ _ Copy, Gold Leader. _ ”

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Wedge,” Lando said, almost wry but a little too on edge.

“ _ Copy that. I’ll take out the power regulator when we get there _ .”

“Just an ordinary afternoon,” Lando said, and chuckled. He’d been spending far too much time around Han, if he was resorting to this kind of gallows humor. The  _ Falcon _ unexpectedly scraped against the top of the passage, and Nien Nunb cursed vehemently. “That was too close,” Lando muttered, but used it as a reminder to keep his focus. 

Sooner than he could believe, they had arrived at the main reactor shaft. It was enormous, and beautiful in the terrible way of any powerful storm on the horizon. 

“All right, Wedge. Go for the power regulator on the north tower,” he ordered, though he knew Wedge needed no reminder. 

“ _ Copy, Gold Leader. I'm already on my way out. _ ” Firing several perfect shots at the regulator, Wedge flew up and around and out, not waiting for Lando. Neither of them said anything over the comms, but it was very possible that the  _ Falcon _ wouldn’t make it out, and they both knew it. Still, they had a mission, and it was not yet complete. It was almost absurdly simple to maneuver the  _ Falcon _ dangerously close and fire. Utilizing the huge space, Lando spun the ship around and began hightailing it out of there. Though hope in these moments was dangerous, leaving people ripe for mistakes, Lando couldn’t help but be on the edge of his seat, daring to reach for the light.

And as he did, as the Death Star began to explode, as fire began to surround them, Lando felt the stirring of the current. 

Luke let the bond flood outward and Lando rode his joy right down from the sun, and just as they were fleeing one explosion, they created their own. Lando let out a whoop of pure, unadulterated joy and  _ belief _ , he believed, he believed, he  _ believed-- _

The bond shone so brightly that Lando briefly wondered if the explosion had caught up to them after all. The relief that flooded from both of them was drowned by that simple feeling, love, and the joy that came with it--a meeting of minds, and of dreams, and of hope, of misunderstandings, and pain, and wonder, and balance. Of trust, and of learning. A bond like theirs, of life and  _ for _ life, formed in thought, given by touch, and cemented by living life together, was worth fighting for. And they had won. 

They had won.


	9. Chapter 9

When the  _ Falcon _ and the Imperial shuttlecraft were safely on the ground, utilizing the empty hangar pad in the middle of the forest, Lando got up and ran out, leaving Nien to finish post-flight checks. Normally, he wouldn’t have done it, but he could feel Luke like a tethering line landing just nearby and he needed to see him  _ now _ . 

Lando tore out of the  _ Falcon _ and found himself in the pure air of Endor. Surrounded by trees, there was only a small breeze, but it felt so right. Freedom soared up under him, lifting the air in his lungs to helpless laughter as he watched Luke’s shuttle touch the ground. Almost as soon as he had landed, Luke leaped through the still-opening hatch and ran to Lando, who opened his arms and caught him. Lando was certain, in that moment, with Luke’s arms tight around his neck and his arms equally tight around Luke’s waist, that he would never let Luke go again. He didn’t know if he was laughing or crying at they spun around, his nose buried in Luke’s neck. 

Luke smelled like ozone and stars.

Tearfully, they separated enough for Luke’s hands to find and caress Lando’s face, for them to feel, really  _ feel _ the bond pulsing in a never-ending tide between them. 

“Force, I love you,” Lando gasped, like it was punched out of him, leaning into Luke’s hand. “Never do that again. Whatever that was, never do that again.” Luke shook his head.

“Sidious is dead,” he promised. “It will never happen again.” Tears suddenly slipped from his eyes, overwhelming in the face of all they had endured. “Gods, I’m so sorry, Lando, I love you--”

“We did it,” Lando assured his bondmate, pulling him into a comforting embrace. They stood on the landing pad, and on their beach, and were falling, after a long and arduous battle, into the light. Overbalanced, and letting go, at last. After a few moments, chuckles began to rumble through Lando’s chest, and Luke looked up in confusion, but smiled.

“What?” he laughed, sensing the contagious joy from his bondmate.

“No, it’s just...we did it,” Lando said, awed. “We really did it.”

“And now you, me, and Wedge are the only three people in the galaxy who have blown up a Death Star,” Luke teased.

“Hey, Nien Nunb was there, too.”

“Fair enough.” Luke, unable to help himself, leaned up to kiss Lando.  _ Finally _ , the Force sang, and there was so much joy they both thought they would burst--enough joy in that moment to last the rest of their lives.

When Luke went to burn his father’s body, Lando did not go with him, by mutual agreement. There were some things Lando could not do at all--and there were some things Luke needed to do alone. But Lando waited for him, taking some time for himself, caring for the  _ Falcon _ , even just for a little while, before she was given back to Han.

But after those waiting moments, the joy lasted. Hand in hand, they walked to the party (hosted by the natives of the planet, who were...teddy bears?). Han glanced at their joined fingers and his mouth opened with an “oh” of realization, bewildered, but Lando didn’t bother questioning it, because he wanted to embrace his oldest friend and celebrate the defeat of the Empire. Luke went to embrace Leia. Alderaan’s last princess wore a carefree smile and genuine, unreserved happiness for the first time in years, and everyone was dazzled by it. Soon, Lando would soon find she out was Luke’s sister, but for now, they danced, they ate, they joked and laughed and yelled out their amazement to the stars--they had done it. They had won.

And at one point, Luke stared off into the trees, and when Lando glanced over, he swore he saw three faint beings, outlined in blue. And while Leia distracted Luke from his ghostly companions, Lando recognized one was Anakin Skywalker with a start. With an admittedly sheepish smile, the man gave a nod, and then a deeper, sincerely respectful bow, before vanishing.

Lando blinked, and shook his head. He was no Jedi, and how he had seen anything of the kind was beyond him. But the moment passed, and the stars were bright and endless across the sky, and there were his friends, and all the people he loved. There was Luke. Right in front of him, in fact.

“Hello,” Luke grinned, chuckling at Lando’s blank stare. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“Not enough,” Lando shot back. His hand made its way to Luke’s waist. “But I’m thinking I want something different right now.” 

“I’m happy to oblige,” Luke said, and surged forward just as the fireworks started. As the sky burst above them, so did their happiness above their sea. 

The air of Endor rang with laughter and relief, and the galaxy began emerging from its long, dark fear. People went outside, finally feeling like they could breathe, and the chokehold of the Empire began to fade. The party on Endor lasted for three days before those rebels finally called it quits, but elsewhere the parties lasted for weeks.

The fighting was not done, of course--there were pockets of Imperial holdouts, and Lando quickly went to work to win back Bespin. Luke helped when he could, and chased remnants of the Jedi across the galaxy. There were rumors of books, records, and people to find. Ahsoka Tano emerged after the war proud and tall, and though she still did not call herself a Jedi (“yet”, she said), she began speaking throughout the galaxy, letting people know that their children still could be. 

Mere months after the fall of the Emperor, parents began to approach Luke about their children, young adults came to him seeking answers to the powers inside them they did not understand--and old Initiates, Padawans, and Knights emerged from the woodwork, wary but ready to begin again.

In time, Luke would build a school on a world that was green and fresh and beautiful, nowhere near Coruscant, and barely a hop, skip, and a jump away from Bespin--it was, in fact, only two planets away, in the same system. Lando continued working on his city, but on Luke’s planet, he built a scientific facility that rivaled the beauty of Kamino, and all of it a monument to his adored, beloved Luke. When the dreams of overwork came, he no longer bore it alone--he went to Luke. When Luke was feeling unsure of his path, he went to Lando and basked in his surety until he felt steady again. 

Between them they had many children--all of Luke’s Padawans, all of Lando’s protegees. In particular, however, there were two little girls, orphans at birth, who grew up in the air and in the forest, cradled in the balance of love and trust. They had lightsabers, and sharp smiles, and heads for business and charm for days, and the love both of their fathers had for them stretched boundless over their sea, with no end in sight. As the years passed and Lando spent more and more warm nights with Luke, he realized that he was content, not just in his bones, or his heart, but in his soul--and Luke, ever in awe of his luck in life, never took for granted a single moment they had together.

They, and the Republic, found balance together at last.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions or want to chat about the story, or just want to drop by in general to say hello, I'm on tumblr at thatlightsaberlesbian.tumblr.com!


End file.
